#canvas gym bag

[kodiakleather]

Kodiak Leather Everyday Carry Leather Bag

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[redvanillabee]

I'm trying to be a responsible adult and go to the gym but why are gym bags and activewear in general so garish and ugly

[gloomwitchwrites]

First of all, I 100% know this is an overused trope... but still....

What If 141 2 people 1 bed trope

Who cares that it's an overused trope? It's a classic for a reason!

I will never tire of a one bed trope. It can be steamy and sexy. It can be angsty. It can be tense. It can literally be so many things at once. It's also a wonderful canvas to play around, and I had a lot of fun with this one. I know you've waited for this one for a while. I hope you enjoy it! :)

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x TF141 Female Reader

Content & Warnings: swearing, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, multiple positions, rough kissing, vaginal fingering, oral sex (male & female receiving), admission of feelings, pretend sex, fake dating/married

Word Count: 6.3k

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“Fuck,” mutters Price.

You glance over your shoulder. Captain Price stands near the hotel window, the gauzy blinds closed but the thicker ones bunched to the sides, allowing in natural light. He’s staring at something happening in the parking lot.

“What it is?” you ask, starting to walk over to him.

“They might have found us.”

Dread flares hot, clenching the muscles in your stomach until it hurts. “Are you sure?”

Price nods, and then backs away from the window. “There’s no way they saw our faces during the infiltration. We wore masks. Might have tracked the stolen car.”

“We need to leave,” you say, but Price shakes his head.

“There’s too many of them, and they’re likely watching all exits on the main floor.” He sighs. “We need to play this right.”

The two of you are freshly showered, and the clothes you wore for the infiltration have already been discarded. Burned—actually, somewhere in the deserts of Arizona. At the moment, the two of you look like civilians.

“They can’t search the building, John. Not without bloodshed.”

He runs a hand through his hair, his gaze darting across the room as his brain works something over. You fidget, picking at your nails. It’s a terrible habit. One you do when you’re nervous.

Price glances at you and your heart drops. “They look official, and that’s probably all that matters. The scrawny teenager at the front desk isn’t going to put up a fight if the credentials appear legitimate.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, striding toward the window to look for yourself.

Captain Price is right. They do look official. They also look fucking terrifying which would scare anyone into compliance if you don’t know what to look for.

“We’re on the bottom floor,” you say, stepping back.

“I know,” growls Price. He pivots, examining the entire room.

He goes for the car keys and shuts them inside the safe. The only other thing in the room is a duffle bag full of plain clothes and generic toiletries. Price pushes clothes aside and then draws out the pistol hiding beneath it all. He checks the clip and then preps the barrel.

“Take off your clothes.”

“What?” you ask, startled.

Price walks over to the singular bed in the room, tucking the gun beneath the pillows. “Do you trust me?”

“Absolutely,” you affirm.

“Then take off your clothes,” repeats Price, reaching behind his head with one hand to grab the collar of his shirt. He pulls it over and off, tossing it aside.

“Spread it around. Make a mess,” he instructs as he goes for the belt on his jeans.

For a moment, you’re stunned, staring at Captain Price’s bare chest. While he’s muscular, it isn’t from a life in the gym. He is thick in all the right places. A solid wall with a beautiful dusting of dark hair that travels downward.

The belt is gone, and that too is tossed aside.

Without removing your gaze, you tentatively discard your shirt, but keep your bra on. It’s a barrier. A safety net. Price isn’t even glancing at you, but you do notice some color at the tops of his cheeks. A soft pink that makes your thoughts spiral outward to imagine if this gentle blush is the same color as the head of his cock.

Price’s jeans go next, already discarded before you move on to the next article of clothing. He’s only in socks and black boxer briefs. There is so much of him on display that you’re starting to forget yourself.

He glances at you, and that color in his cheeks darken. “You’re still dressed.”

You open your mouth to answer but then you hear a shout from down the hall and sharp banging on a door. They’re far too close.

This urges you on, moving with faster intention, and once you’re down to just your bra and underwear, you finally glance at Price again.

Price—who is naked. Completely bare. And you have a full view of what he’s been packing underneath all that.

Fuck.

He approaches the bed, and tugs back the sheets. The muscles in his arms and back tense as he crumples the bedding to sexed perfection—as if the two of you have been going at it for hours.

Price sits down on the edge of the bed and slides underneath, his legs parting enough that you get a glimpse of everything. This man isn’t even fully hard but from what you can see, it would be a tight fit if you actually sat on him.

Lifting a pillow, Price checks for the pistol and then sets it back, settling into the sheets. He frowns slightly when his attention returns to you.

“All of that has to go.”

“Does it?” you counter, crossing your arms over your chest.

There’s another thunderous pounding on a nearby door followed by shouting.

“It does if we’re going to make it out of here alive.” Price shrugs, and then smirks. “Could help you.”

Sighing heavily and you reach behind your back, unclasping the bra. You hurl it at him and Price catches it out of the air. Crossing your arms over your chest, you hurry toward the bed. But you don’t make it beneath the sheets.

“Everything,” repeats Price.

Reaching out, Price snags the thin cotton fabric and pulls down, revealing you to him and the room. Instinct as you grasping for control, hands splayed over his large forearms as he gives the fabric another yank.

You cannot form a response. Words leave you as Price drags you into the bed with him.

“Sorry about this,” he grumbles, that color returning to his cheeks in full force. It’s cute actually—how sheepish he looks.

You swallow, and lick your lips. “It’s fine.”

Price leans back against the pillows, guiding you with him. “Get on top.”

Straddling his hips, you settle yourself over him. You try—and fail—to not notice the way the hard length of him nestles against your pussy. You keep one arm crossed over your breasts but all it does is hides your nipples from him. Your other hand is splayed wide and pressed against his chest.

“We’re married,” he says, staring into your eyes. “That’s the story. I’ll do the talking. You act like the scared wife when they come barging in.”

You nod, and Price releases a deep exhalation. His hands rest on your thighs. They’re a brand. Warm. All you can think about. They move upward to settle on your hips.

“Pretend you’re riding me,” he murmurs.

With a gentle hand, Price grasps your wrist, drawing your arm away from your breasts. You don’t resist, and he brings your other palm to rest against his chest.

“Pretend,” he reiterates, hands returning to your hips. Price creates the motion by dragging you back and forth, imitating a rocking motion. Though you’re stationary, your pussy still drags against the length of his cock.

You notice the tremor in his jaw as your bodies rub against each other. This is affecting him as much as it is you.

“Pretend,” you say back to him.

Price nods and then grabs for the television remote from the bedside table. He turns it on and then ups the volume. You imitate the motion he created, rocking back and forth, sliding yourself along his cock, pretending you don’t notice how wet you’ve become over the course of the last few minutes.

His hands return to your hips, and then Price sinks back completely into the pillows, his eyelids softening as he gazes up at you. It’s far too intimate of a stare, and it’s only compounded when one of his hands meander upward to slide over your stomach and then between your breasts. You gasp as his thumb traces the underside of your breast.

Head tilting back, you grind downward, finding yourself diving into the warmth that’s starting to pool low in your belly.

A sharp pounding at the door has you snapping to attention. Every muscle tenses. Seizes.

“You’re fine,” coos Price. “We’ll be fine.”

The pounding comes again and then a yell from behind it. The voice is muffled. Not only by the door but from the television.

Swallowing, you try to connect into it again, rolling your hips, imagining that Price is your husband—that you love him—and this is simply an exploration of that love.

When you roll your hips again, Price sits up slightly, his warm breath brushing against your breast. A tingle shudders through you, and Price groans before his tongue grazes over your nipple, bringing it to a point.

“Knew you’d taste sweet,” he says softly at the same moment the hotel door bursts open.

One second, you’re atop Price, and the next his arms are around you, turning you away from the door to hide you from sight. You’re not on your back but Price has shoved you toward the bed as he sits up, creating a barrier between you and the intruders.

The tactical-clad trio entering the room—with a hotel worker nervously trailing behind—

don’t even get a word in before Price starts going off on them.

“Get out! Get the fuck out!”

His accent is gone, replaced by an American one. It’s incredibly good, and his feigned anger even more so. The men entering faulter under Price’s tirade. They likely weren’t expecting this, and Price uses this opportunity to push the advance.

“We’re fucking busy in here. Fuck off!”

The man at the head of the trio clears his throat and holds up a hand, but Price chucks one of the water glasses at the man. The guy ducks and it shatters against the wall. The hotel worker at their back squeaks and pushes forward.

“We’re so sorry. Just a search for some prison escapees. We’re clearly in the wrong room.”

Prison escapees? You want to laugh but think better of it. Instead, you press your face against Price’s arm, feigning sheepishness.

Price’s lips turn into a snarl, and the hotel worker blanches.

“We’ll give you a complimentary stay for the inconvenience,” the man babbles before waving his arms to usher the other men out.

For a moment, you don’t think it’ll work, but they go.

You and Price don’t sigh with relief until the door shuts. His forehead presses against yours, chest heaving.

“Nice accent,” you whisper and this draws a smile from his lips.

“Like it more than this one?” he asks, his regular accent returning.

“Nope,” you say. “This one suits you fine.”

Price’s gaze draws over your exposed body and then lands on your face. It’s soft. Sensual. You’re frozen beneath it, breath catching as his fingers brush along the line of your jaw.

You’re not sure who moves first but his lips are on yours and then you’re moaning. Price rolls you onto your back, each kiss more demanding and fiercer than the last. He tastes of the mint toothpaste he used earlier and smells of soap.

Reaching between your bodies, you find him hard, and there is no other need within you but the one that craves for him to be inside. To fuck you ceaselessly.

You stroke him and Price groans into your mouth, his hand wrapping around your throat. Hooking your legs behind him, you guide him to your entrance. With a light press of your heels, Price takes your meaning.

There is no gentle pretense. No soft kisses or playful coaxing. Price goes all in, and you break the kiss to gasp aloud, nails digging into his back. Price is thick and having him inside you is a deliciously painful stretch.

It is all desperate the way he moves. Price isn’t gentle. It’s skin slapping against skin. It is sweat and groans. A savage hardness that borders on hysteria.

Your hand reaches behind you to press against the headboard as Price fucks you into the bed, but even that is shaking, banging loudly against the wall. It’s clear even over the drone from the television. The people next door will know exactly what the two of you are up to.

Price is relentless. A man starved. He nips at your bottom lip. Sucks it into his mouth. And when that isn’t enough, he goes for your neck and then your breasts, making your nipples smart and throb under his teeth and tongue.

The orgasm comes sharp and hot, bursting forth like a wave. And when you squeeze around him, Price is right there with you, his cum coating your insides as he too finds his end.

The two of you are all heavy breath. Sweaty limbs.

Price nuzzles the side of your neck, placing soft kisses there until he travels up to find your lips again. These are gentle. Not desperate like before.

When there’s a moment to speak, it is you that breaks the silence.

“So much for pretending.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It’s the middle of the day but you wouldn’t be able to tell.

A storm is raging—the rain thick and heavy. It falls from the sky in large drops that soak clothes and slick the skin. It’s a bit cold, too. A little chilly. The kind of wet chill that hardens the nipples and brings a shiver to your bones.

“Here. You’re soaked.”

Kyle presents a towel. It’s off-white and a bit frayed. But what can you expect from a motel in the middle of nowhere? Having a towel at all is nice. At least it isn’t threadbare.

“Thanks,” you reply softly, gently dapping the rough-textured material against your face.

Kyle strides over to the heating unit. It’s dirty and barely anchored to the wall. He hits a few buttons and then the thing turns on. It’s loud. Clunky. But heat starts to seep from the slats, warming the room.

After drying your face, you begin to remove outer pieces of clothing. Kyle might be your teammate, but there isn’t really anywhere to hide but the bathroom. Knowing the state of most motels, you don’t really want to find out either.

Kyle has the same idea. He dries off with his own towel, removing soaked articles of clothing as he goes. You try not to look—to be discreet—but it’s hard not to steal a peek. Kyle is all toned muscle and firmness. There’s a light dusting of hair on his chest. It’s a bit thicker around his navel. It trails downwards, and your mind wanders to a place it shouldn’t.

You glance away but not fast enough. His gaze roams upward, finding you, and there he pauses, observing you as you did him.

Pretending is best.

You attempt to act like you don’t notice him at all, turning your back like you’re incredibly interested with the wallpaper that likely hasn’t been replaced in years.

It’s his heat that draws your attention—that steals your breath, and makes every muscle in your body tense with anticipation.

“You’re shivering,” he murmurs.

Kyle is so close. Close enough that his breath brushes against your bare shoulder. You’re just in your bra and underwear, the only items that aren’t completely soaked from the rain.

He inhales, and that exhalation teases your flesh again. Giving in, you close your eyes, sinking into Kyle’s presence.

When you open them again, you notice a mirror hanging on the wall. It’s great if you were trying to plan an outfit, but that isn’t what you notice.

Instead, you see yourself. And Kyle.

The backs of his knuckles lightly caress the side of your arm. His head is tipped forward and turned inward like you’ll turn around any moment to kiss him.

The urge is there. Tugging. Wanting you to do just that.

The two of you are always walking around the other, seeking comfort and closeness but never seizing it. Maybe you should. Maybe—turning around is the best thing you can do for yourself.

“Kyle,” you breathe, and his little hum in answer tightens that string.

Without hesitation, you do turn.

Kyle’s lips are right there. They’re parted slightly. Inviting.

His arm drapes across your waist, hand splaying wide against your stomach, pressing until the two of you are sandwiched together.

It’s not like you don’t want this. You do. You want Kyle. Have since the moment he introduced himself to you. But the two of you have always remained professional in every space you occupy.

And now there is no one around.

No one to see.

No one to know.

Your head tips back in answer, and Kyle leans into it, pressing his lips to yours. It is sweet. Gentle. More of an ask than anything else.

And you reply, meeting him in equal measure. The pressure on your stomach increases just as Kyle’s other hand wraps around the front of your throat, holding you still. Each kiss is a claiming, one you freely submit to.

Kyle is all sugared-warmth, and you want to rot your teeth.

Draping your arm around the back of his neck, you pull him closer. Kyle nips. Bites. Sucks your bottom lip into his mouth before soothing the burn with a few tender kisses. Heat blossoms in your core before morphing into an aching slickness.

You’ve been putting him off—brushing him aside.

Why wait any longer when Kyle is all you crave?

“Fucking hell, love,” he groans against your mouth.

Your lips part, and Kyle slides his tongue inside. His taste is everything, but you want to know him everywhere.

Your hand seeks, brushing against his hardness through his boxer briefs. When you slip your hand beneath the elastic band, Kyle’s only response to kiss you harder.

Wrapping your fingers around him, you start to stroke what you can with the little room you have. Your thumb brushes over the head of his cock and Kyle draws back.

“I’ve wanted this since I met you,” he says, voice a bit rough.

Twisting in his grip, you turn to face him. “Can I show you how much I’ve wanted you, too?” you ask, pressing your breasts against his chest.

Kyle loosens his hold and you drop to your knees, taking his boxer briefs with you. His cock is gorgeous. It curves upward slightly, and a pearly bead of precum blooms in the slit.

He whispers your name, and then you have him in hand. Stroking once. Twice.

You lick off that bead. Savor his taste. Go back for more.

Kyle grabs the back of your head, drawing you to him. You open your mouth. Swallow him down. Throating him until you gag.

“Fuck,” he groans, elongating the vowel.

You work him with hand and mouth, keeping a steady rhythm that has him weak and wanton. You have all the control—until you don’t.

“Let me fuck your mouth, love. Please.”

The please is what does it. You release his cock, placing both hands on his thighs. With a pleased growl, Kyle keeps your head stationary. You anticipate the first thrust, and it is sinful. The movement goes straight to your pussy as you imagining him fucking you there like he fucks your mouth.

Fingers dig into muscled thigh. You want to touch yourself, to tease your clit while he does it. He is a god above you—Adonis.

“Can’t wait to taste your cunt, love,” rasps Kyle. “Can’t wait to make you drip for me.”

His desire fuels your own, and you urge him on, gently cupping him with one hand, thumb lightly rubbing the sensitive strip of flesh there.

Kyle’s hips stutter, and you relax your throat, humming around his cock as your lips meet the base. He holds you there, and you take it all, thighs chaffing from the friction of you rubbing them together in anticipation.

You blink up at him, and Kyle wipes away a tear with his thumb.

“My turn,” he murmurs.

You’re on your feet and then on your back in seconds. All the wind is knocked out of you, and then Kyle’s tongue is there, sliding through your slickness. Parting. Teasing the opening of your vagina before trailing upward to circle around your clit.

Gasping, your hands reach for him. Kyle grabs both wrists, keeps them planting on your stomach as he fucks you with his tongue. His shoulders dig into your thighs, keeping them wide. He’s stronger than you even as your thighs quiver, wanting to close, wanting to shut.

Kyle groans against your pussy, and then he’s on your clit, moving in such an easy, languid way that everything explodes outward. A shudder passes from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. Your pussy clenches. Unclenches. Clenches again.

Kyle doesn’t let up. He doesn’t cease. Every stroke strikes true and then your body betrays itself, overstimulation setting in, and the urge to wiggle away is paramount.

But just as you push at him—just as your body draws back. Kyle is releasing your wrists, pushing himself up and over you, spreading those legs even wider to slide inside.

The bed creaks beneath you, and then he’s thrusting.

Your moans of pleasure become one with the rain.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Single lamp. Lone bed.

Peeling paint. Dusty corners.

“Something’s on your mind.” Your voice is the only sound in the room other than the AC unit.

Soap’s sigh is soft and small as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

It’s the last night before the potential end. Before victory or failure. Just the two of you now with the plan to meet up with others later.

He nods, and you take a tentative step forward. “We attended the briefing. You know the details.”

“Aye.”

“Then what has you worried?” you ask, taking another step in Soap’s direction.

A warm, orange glow emits from the singular lamp on the bedside table. It’s not enough light to illuminate the cheap peeling paint or the dirt in the corners of the room. It only gives life to the bed and the side of Soap’s face.

It’s not like you have an unlimited budget. A motel room is the best the two of you could manage for some rest before moving on. The man at the desk didn’t even glance up when he asked if they only wanted a room for an hour.

You had asked for two beds. The man at the desk replied that no one who stops here asks for that.

One bed it is.

One bed.

Somehow, you’ll have to sleep beside Soap while simultaneously shoving down the urge to reach out to him.

Sighing, Soap leans forward, forearms resting on his knees. His gaze drifts slightly as if he’s not focusing on anything in particular. Running his fingers through his short mohawk, he tugs on the ends, mussing the freshly washed strands, creating a wavy mess.

Just that one movement as you leaning forward, nostrils flaring to inhale that clean scent.

“Adaptability,” he answers. Finally.

Instead of sitting on the bed beside him, you sink to your knees, resting your arm on the bed, and your chin on your arm.

The two of you have been on missions before but never together like this.

Never alone.

Keeping your gaze downward, you notice just how close you are to him—and how Soap leans in your direction, the edge of his knee brushing against the side of your hand.

It’s a small contact, but he’s warm, and that warmth is transferring into yourself, unspooling outward. It’s a difficult thing—because all this time you’ve harbored feelings for him, and yet have never acted on them.

“You’re quick on your feet, Soap,” you murmur, one finger absently extended to brush over the curve of his knee.

The corner of his mouth twitches. “You can call me Johnny.”

Johnny. You’ve never called him that. Soap, sure. Sergeant MacTavish? All the time.

“I thought Ghost only had that right.”

Only Ghost calls Soap ‘Johnny.’ That’s understood by everyone.

Soap shrugs. “He did.” He glances at you, his smile widening. “But I’d like to hear you say it.”

Something swirls in your stomach, twisting like a knife.

“How would you like to hear it?” you reply.

Johnny’s smile, which is so wide and teasing, softens into a sultry smirk. “I have options?”

“You do.”

Johnny’s usual playfulness emerges. “Say it like you’re angry with me.”

“Johnny,” you say, deepening your voice to sound like Ghost.

He bursts out laughing, falling back onto the bed, clutching his stomach. “Oh, aye. I’ll give you that.”

“What else?” you tease. “I demand more.”

“Say it like you’re annoyed with me.”

You do just that, and Johnny sits up, turning on his side.

“Again,” you prompt.

The middle of Johnny’s brow creases and then his hand cradles the side of your face. He closes the distance, kissing you deeply—as if you are his lover and not a friend.

But you don’t pull away. You indulge yourself, kissing him back just as sweetly.

You’re not sure how much time passes, just that it does, and his small retreat after it’s done is all you have in acknowledging its passing.

The withdrawal is short. Johnny doesn’t move away. He keeps his hand on your cheek. The tip of his nose nearly brushing yours.

“Say it now,” he breathes, voice raspy.

“Johnny,” but it’s not what you intended to say.

He sighs. “Again.”

“Johnny.”

This time he groans, and then your lips are fusing, becoming one. You’re dragged off the floor and into his arms, tangling in his heat, forgetting yourself completely.

“Johnny,” you repeat, and then your shirt is gone, followed by your bra.

He nips at the curve of your breasts before sucking your nipple into his mouth. His teeth graze flesh and you say his name again until it becomes a strangled moan.

The front of your jeans is open, and his hand is there, cupping your sex, fingers dragging through your wetness.

“Johnny,” but it’s to stop him, to remind him that this cannot go on.

“Fucking hell. Love the way you say my name.”

This melts your resolve. Makes your legs spread wider. Makes you shove at your pants and create plenty of space.

Johnny knows. He understands.

He yanks them down even as he peppers your breasts with little nips and kisses. Your fingers drags through his hair as he sucks the other nipple into his mouth, bringing it to perky attention.

One finger slides inside, and you groan loudly, legs falling wide as Johnny settles himself between.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, claiming your mouth and pumping his finger. You whimper as he inserts a second. “Wanted you so bad.”

Your pussy flutters, squeezing around him. It is Johnny that groans this time, and it is a primal sound.

“Can I fuck you?” he asks. “Please.”

“Johnny,” you breathe. “Johnny.”

“Need a yes or no. Tell me. Do you want me? I’ve wanted you.”

You answer by finding him—guiding him to the place you need him to.

With a low growl, Johnny pins your arms above your head, slotting his pelvis against yours, the head of his cock sinking in until you’re taking all of him.

“Johnny!”

“That’s what I want to hear,” he croons, starting to thrust.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“I can’t tell what blood is yours and what isn’t.”

“Can fucking do it myself.”

“Ghost—”

“It’s not a problem.”

“Simon,” you snap, and he stops fidgeting.

Behind the plain balaclava, you see the fire in Lieutenant Riley’s eyes. This man is your superior. At least, right now he is. But the mission is done. It’s over. Yet the two of you are stranded, and making contact with Price is going to take time.

Not to mention that Simon is injured, and you have no fucking idea where at.

“Let me help you,” you say as soothingly as possible.

You don’t want to fight with him. All you want is to help Simon, to clean him up, and get him into bed. Rest and healing are what he needs right now. Contacting Price can wait. Base can stew for a while longer.

The two of you are in a motel room in the middle of fucking nowhere America. It’s shit overall, but it will have to do. There’s no way anyone is searching for the two of you out here. You drove until you nearly ran out of gas, and then you refilled and drove some more. Simon was in the back of the car, covered in blood.

But he was awake. Moving. Not a head injury, and not enough to get him immediate medical treatment. Not like he would have allowed you to take him to a hospital anyway. Lieutenant Riley is fucking stubborn. Sometimes infuriatingly so.

Simon stares, hard, his dark eyes intense behind the balaclava. He blinks, and then pushes up from the chair, keeping his gaze trained on you.

“Lieutenant,” you mutter, annoyed.

As Simon stands and attempts to take a step forward, his left leg wobbles, and he nearly topples forward. Your arms go out to catch him, holding him steady. He’s a big guy, and he seems to know this because he tries to prop himself up using the chair.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” you snap.”

“Listen—”

“I’m not arguing with you Simon Riley.”

Using his full name shuts him up. It’ll likely earn you a reprimand later, but fuck it, you’re over this.

“Stay there.” You shove him back down into the chair and head into the bathroom.

There is a single overhead light. Flipping the switch turns it on and the fan. It’s a tight space, but thankfully the shower isn’t also a tub. That would be a nightmare getting him in. Instead, there is a sink, a toilet, and a dividing wall that cuts the room in half. It’s more like a locker shower but it’ll work.

Reaching in, you turn the handle. You jump back as cold water shoots out of the shower head. After waiting for a few seconds, steam starts to rise.

You take a deep breath, knowing what you have to do. “You got this,” you murmur, heading back into the room.

Simon leans forward in the chair, forearms resting on his knees.

You hold out your hand. “Let’s go.”

Lieutenant Riley’s head swivels in your direction. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” you reply, holding firm. “Come on.”

With a deep sigh, Simon reaches out and slides his hand into yours. It’s warm. Calloused. You squeeze it and step forward, extending your other arm to wrap around his torso. Simon stands. Wobbles. But you snake your arm around him, and then it’s a slow trek into the bathroom.

Simon is limping, but he’s showing no other signs that his injury hurts him. Might be minor, or he’s just good at covering up the pain.

Once the two of you are inside the bathroom, you realize just how small the space is. Maneuvering Simon to the shower is difficult, a weird dance to wiggle around the door and toilet to the opening of the shower.

You retreat slightly, and Simon leans against the wall, his eyelids closing as he takes a deep breath.

“You good?” you ask, concern creasing your brow.

Simon nods. “I’ll manage.” His eyelids open slowly and then he stares into the shower. “You want me in there?”

“You’ll need to remove a few things first,” you reply, gesturing toward his uniform.

Simon snorts. “Trying to get me naked?”

“You wish,” you retort, even as your cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Need help?”

At first, Simon doesn’t say anything. He just reaches for his belt, removing it slowly with one hand.

“I’ll leave you to it,” you mumble, starting to turn away.

“Wait.”

You freeze, and then glance over your shoulder. “What is it?”

Simon shrugs. “What if I slip? Might need you to catch me.”

This bastard.

“Then I’ll stay,” you reply cooly, pretending that this doesn’t affect you.

But it does. It’s reshaping you, and Simon’s slow undressing isn’t helping things. He keeps his gaze on you the entire time, and you purposefully keep your eyes averted, when really you want to look. You want to know what he’s like under all that.

The belt goes. So does his tactical gear and jacket. Next is his shirt followed by his balaclava. You sneak a peek then, and Simon grins at you like he knew you’d look eventually.

“I’ll need some help with these. Getting them down that is.” Simon gestures towards his pants and you feel your face grow so hot you fear it might explode.

“Sure.”

You reach for him, silently chastising your shaking fingers. This is too much, even though you like it, and want more from it. You undo the button and zipper. Sliding your hands beneath the band, you shimmy Simon’s pants to the floor. He kicks them away and all that’s left are his boxer briefs. They’re tight and you notice the massive bulge in front.

Fuck.

“You can do the rest,” you reply, glancing away.

Simon removes them, and then he starts forward, arms outstretched to balance himself as he enters the shower.

“Fucking hell,” moans Simon as the hot water hits his body.

The groan that comes after is deep, and so sultry you feel a bolt of pleasure spike from your pussy.

“Should join me.”

“No thanks,” you say, averting your gaze away from Simon’s muscled backside.

One moment you’re facing the wall, and the next you’re under the spray of water.

“What the fuck,” you shriek, stumbling backward as Simon chuckles. Muttering under your breath, you stare down at your soaked clothing. “Goddamn it.” You start removing articles of clothing, the wet fabric peeling away from your skin.

“Fucking fine, Simon.”

You shed everything and storm under the spray, only for Simon to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you against him. There is no pause between then and the moment his lips find yours. It is sweet, and warm. You instantly melt, enjoying every second.

But it’s fleeting.

You draw back, heart hammering in your chest.

“You’re covered in blood. Remember?”

Simon shrugs and then offers you the soap. “Clean me then.”

You do it, and when you’re done, he does the same for you. It’s far too intimate, and Simon’s gentleness is surprising. Once finished, you dry and bandage the wound on his leg. It’s not terrible—and will likely need stitches—but it’s not bleeding anymore.

The singular bed in the middle of the room is far too small. Not with Simon in at, spread out and naked under the sheets.

You slide in beside him, not knowing where you should settle. Simon is large, taking up most of the best. The only place is curled up next to his side.

Turning your resolve to steal, you settle in. You begin to turn away from Simon, but his arm shoots out, grasping your waist. You’re yanked across the bed, only to find yourself in Simon’s arms.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Stop pretending, love. We both know what’s going on. Don’t deny it.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Simon—”

“We’ve been making eyes at each other for fucking months. And now we’re alone. You think I don’t see the opportunity?”

Simon’s hand slides over the curve of your ass, and then dips beneath your shirt. You’re not wearing underwear, and when his fingers brush over your pussy, you gasp, pressing into him.

“You’re already wet for me,” growls Simon as he drags a finger through your folds. “So fucking wet.” He presses in, and your pussy parts for him.

“We can’t, Simon. You’re injured.”

“Not so much,” he coos. “Especially since I can do this.” On this, Simon drags the tips of his finger along the inside your pussy, hitting that sweet spot.

You moan, fingers digging into his chest as your back arches to press you further down on him.

“It’s just my leg that’s injured.” Simon’s lips brush against your cheek and then the edge of your ear. His breath is warm against your skin. “I can still fuck you. Have you on top. Bounce you on my cock.” Simon gives the curve of your ear the faintest kiss. “Would you like that, love? Do you want me to fuck you?”

“We—we—”

With his other hand, Simon grasps the back of your neck, drawing you against him, silencing whatever it is you’re trying to say. He seizes your mouth in a fierce kiss. You open for him, and his tongue slides inside. He tastes nice, and you want to sink into the feeling. Have him devour you completely.

“Let me in,” he murmurs against your lips.

You push up, doing exactly as he wants you to do. You settle on his lap, his hard cock pressed up against your thigh.

With a low growl, Simon removes your shirt, leaving you completely bare to his gaze.

“Much better,” he says, cupping your breasts as you lean on his chest, lifting your hips.

His cock slides through your folds, and then you start the descent, moaning as he splits you in two. The stretch is intense—nearly sharp with pain, but laced with pleasure. Simon’s eyelids flutter slightly, and his groan is pure sin.

Simon lightly squeezes your breasts one more time before his hands find your hips. He lifts you up, and then back down, bouncing you on his cock. You cling to him, allowing him to use you, to fuck you in whatever way he wants.

Each grunt and growl from him only makes you wetter. Hungrier.

“I’m gonna come inside you.”

It’s not a question. There is no other option, and you wouldn’t take anything else even if there was.

“Please,” you whimper.

Simon’s hands tighten, his hips thrusting upward to meet every downward movement. He sits up, his mouth clamping around a nipple to nip and suck. Your orgasm roars up from nowhere, and then you’re clenching around him, milking Simon’s cock as his own end greets him.

taglist:

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@enarien @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

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[mrchiipchrome]

The Museum

W.C. - 5.2 k

this is so the 'pookie looks absolutely fire' tiktok couple coded

thank you to the anon that requested this, much love to you:)

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The skittles made a crunching sound as your molars bit down on them, it was an every day snack for you, tasting the rainbow more often than not. It was a relatively new habit, but when your ex had broken up with you, you promised yourself to become a better person.

It obviously had to be you who had something wrong with them, otherwise she wouldn’t have fallen in love with someone else and out of love with you. Quitting smoking was the first thing on your agenda, hence the skittles.

The next thing was to get away from the small southern town in Texas, move so far away that you left the country entirely. The only thing you’d taken with you on the plane was a carryon with 2 changes of clothes, your cowboy hat and a dream of bettering your life.

The third thing you bettered was your health, going out for a run every morning through the streets of London, going to the gym after work, doing push-ups before bed. It worked wonders, the tips you got from the ladies at the bar where you worked were simply incredible.

The fourth thing you wanted to improve was your cultural knowledge, the exact reason why you were standing in the middle of a museum, old renaissance paintings in every corner of the large room. It was something you appreciated, none of that modern bullshit where people just taped a banana to a canvas and called it art, it was back from when people actually painted.

Your hand slipped down your body into your jacket pocket, fetching another piece of candy, although a voice speaking up from your right startled you nearly enough for you to drop it back into the bag.

“You’re not supposed to eat in museums, you know?” The woman had a foreign dialect, just like you. You guessed it was from somewhere in the middle of Europe, maybe Germany or any of the neighboring countries.

“It’s not a problem if you don’t tell on me, no one has to know.” She seems just as startled by your accent as you were by her speaking to you, her cheeks dusted with a light pink at the wink you sent her.

“What are you going to do if I tell them? Take me back to your ranch on your horse?” The mystery woman teases, obviously making fun of the accent and the cowboy hat sitting perched on your head. In response you laugh under your breath, shaking your head in amusement.

“I’m afraid that I left the ranch back in Texas, Miss. All I have here is a small one bedroom apartment.” She looks up at you through the side of her eye, her half smile distracting you more than you’d like to admit. Her brows knit together when she notices a security guard eying the two of you curiously and her elbow digs into your ribs when you once again reach for the skittles in your pocket.

“Nice hat, my friend would be jealous.” You nod in agreement, plucking the stetson off your head and turning it around in your hand. In a brief moment of stupidity, you place the cowboy hat on the pretty stranger’s head, it falling down the front of her face to cover her eyes. It’s frankly adorable, the way she brings her hand up to push it back to the crown of her head.

The reassuring smile on her face tells you that she approves of your action, a relief to your entire being. She takes her phone out of her back pocket, turning it on and snapping a picture of you both, the cowboy hat still perched on top of her head.

In response, you snap a picture of her alone, the woman posing like a cowboy would for you. She was going to be the wallpaper of your phone for a while, even though you didn’t even know her name.

“So, do you have a name or am I just going to have to call you mine?” The cheesy pickup line just slips out, not at all consciously, it was like instinct took over, a pretty girl was to be flirted with.

“I wouldn’t mind being called yours, but for now you can call me Lia.” The woman doesn’t seem uncomfortable by your advances, in fact she embraces them, teasing smile telling you that she found it amusing how worried you got over a simple pickup line.

“Lia, a beautiful name for an even more gorgeous girl.” She gains her pink tint back, the compliment likely the cause of her blush. It wasn’t like she never got complimented, it was just the attractive zing your accent put over the words that made them feel more sincere.

“And how about you? A name attached to that pretty face?” Now it was your turn to blush at the other woman’s words, her lips splitting into a full toothed smile.

“Y/n. Y/n Y/l/n.” You imitate Bond to introduce yourself, sticking your hand out for her to take, a firm handshake and the tip of an imaginary hat letting her know who exactly it is you are. 

“Good to know my future last name.” She winks at you and the blush that’s already covering your face deepens significantly. The insinuation that you were to marry the girl beside you too much for your poor little heart to take. 

She starts to walk away from you and towards another section of the room, looking back over her shoulder when she realizes that you weren’t right beside her, walking. Waving her hand in a “come here” motion, you quickly catch up with the older woman. 

“So, why skittles? Is there not any other sweet you’d rather have?” She asks as you match her slow rhythm of steps, your hands shoved in the pockets of your coat with your arms forming loops. Lia threads one of her arms through yours, leaning her head on your shoulder, standing still all of a sudden to look at a painting. It didn’t feel like you’d just met, like you’d just introduced yourselves to one another, it felt like you’d known each other for decades, easily slipping into being comfortable with each other.

You gaze at her as she looks at the painting, making sure to map out all her gorgeous features and commit them to memory. She was like a breath of fresh air in a world of polluted oxygen.

“First of all it’s called candy, not sweets, candy. Secondly, they’re amazing for when you want to stop smoking.” Her cheek smushes against your shoulder as she turns her head to look up at you, her eyebrows scrunched together adorably.

“You were a smoker?” You feel the strong urge to place a peck atop her lips, soft and warm against your own. But in the end you resist, you’d only just met the woman for god’s sake, you don’t want to make her uncomfortable. Her eyes hold so many emotions that you just can’t read.

“Yeah, only for about a year. My ex stressed me out so much that I felt it was the easiest way to deal with it. But when she broke up with me, I decided to get my life back together, moved here, got a job at a bar and that’s it. That’s why I’m here.” Lia listens intensively at the story you’re telling her, the way she looks at you suggests that she’s hanging off your every last syllable.

“So no more smoking at all for you?” You puff your chest up, proudly displaying the grin on your face and your now discolored tongue. Lia looks on in amusement at your actions, a grin that could light up an opera house on her face. 

“Nope, I’m never picking up a cigarette again.” The amusement turns into a sort of profound proud feeling, a feeling that she definitely shouldn’t be feeling for what is practically a stranger. A stranger that in the matter of a mere hour had worked their way into her heart and made themselves home.

“Good, I’m really happy for you.” The softened look on Lia’s face makes you blush, it was the way most people looked at their loved ones. You couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to be one of her loved ones, how it would feel to see her first thing in the morning, to gaze into her tentative eyes and try to read her like a book just because you know exactly how it is she acts, how she feels at that exact moment, what she thinks.

At your faraway look Lia nudges you in the ribs, giggling at the embarrassed expression that occupies your face. Her giggle could only be described as a ray of sunlight, lighting the glum room up in seconds, giving it a golden glow.

The older woman doesn’t miss the fondness in your gaze as you watch her laugh, your own lips splitting into a smile and soon after a loud belly laugh bubbles up in your chest, welling out of your mouth like water out a dam. 

Only moments later the both of you are doubled over in laughter, tears slipping down your cheeks and arms crossed over your stomachs. Some scattered guests give you two dirty looks, as if you were peasants in a house full of royals, but they are counter effective because it only makes you and Lia laugh harder.

The security guard from earlier approaches you both as you drop down to the floor with a loud thump, Lia bursting out into an entire new fit of laughter as you try to catch your breath.

“Y/n, I’ve already let you get away with a lot today but this is your last strike. Up you get, I’ll escort you and your lady companion to the exit.” He speaks through his thick mustache, his round beer gut bobbing up and down with every word like he needed every fat covered muscle of his stomach to get the words out.

Small giggles escape you both as Lia and you are led out of the building by a firm grip around both of your arms. You both watch in amusement as the fat man gets winded walking back up the stairs he just led you down, bending over for a brief second at the top before disappearing back behind the door.

“So, I take it you know the security guard then?” She sounds a little out of breath as she speaks to you, flyaways sticking out of her bun, your hand itches to reach up and smooth them out, undo her bun and run your fingers through her hair. But you don’t. 

“Yeah, he’s my regular. Comes in every day and buys a pint after work, a good friend of mine he is. He lets me get away with eatin’ in there every time I come.” You stand right in front of the brunette, hands again in your pockets as you smile at her tentatively. Her hand comes up to rub at your arm, and you feel as though you were going to pass out at any moment, the electric feeling of her ring covered fingers touching your arm overwhelming in a good way.

“Ah, a museum nepo baby then.” You can tell that she’s joking by the way her eyebrows raise all the way up to her hairline, and you imitate her by doing the same thing. Another fit of giggles ensues, Lia looking directly into your eyes, holding eye contact for a prolonged amount of time.

It makes you nervous, her somewhat challenging gaze locking on your face for a moment longer than necessary. When she grasps your hands in hers you finally look back at her, meeting her tender gaze with your own.

“I really enjoyed today, I was hoping we could do it again sometime.” The older woman looks at you sheepishly, nearly nervously. You’re mesmerized by her gorgeous simplicity, simple smile grazing her lips as you nod, a recognisable warmth behind the hug she gives you, the quick kiss she places on your cheek haphazardly before walking away, not looking back to see your rose tinted cheeks.

It’s only when Lia has disappeared far behind the horizon that you realize that you have no way to contact her AND that she essentially got away with your favorite cowboy hat. You aren’t as distraught about your hat as you are about not getting her number, it was a dumbass move from you.

You drag your feet all the way back to your apartment, not knowing that only moments after you left the museum, the girl of your dreams ran back all the way to get your number. And like you, she dragged her feet all the way back to her apartment, sulking and questioning her own intelligence.

Arriving at the bar that evening was strange, you felt almost empty without the girl you’d met earlier that day, no light brown cowboy hat perched atop your head nor a beaming smile. It was weird to everyone around you, you always had that damned hat on, but now it was a completely different one, black with a few white accents.

“What happened to you? It looks like someone ran over your dog.” Your co-worker and best friend Marla asks, placing her hand on your shoulder softly as if you were to break if she did it any harder. Shaking your head, your other friend and co-bartender Jason comes up to rub your back softly, the comfort from both of your best friends loosening you up significantly and soon after you spill everything that had happened up to that point.

They were both smirking at you when you finished up the story, knowing that despite only just meeting the woman in the museum you were already in love. 

“So do you have a picture of this goddess who’s making you drop to your knees?” Marla asks you, looking knowingly at your other best friend, who in return wiggles his eyebrows at her. You knew something would happen between them soon, and you’d rather be in hell than to watch it.

“Yeah, just give me a quick sec.” Pulling out your phone, you quickly unlock it and enter the photo app, not needing to scroll as the most recent photo was of her, Lia.

“Girl, are you fucking with me?” You look at the dark skinned girl in confusion, her eyes widening as she realizes that you had no fucking clue who it was you had met. She looks to her ‘boyfriend’ quickly in shock, who looks back at her equally appalled.

“Are you telling me you don’t recognise her?” The moment you shake your head is when the green eyed boy facepalms, not believing your stupidity. “Not at all? You haven’t seen her before.” When you once again shake your head the man sighs in disappointment, all faith in your intelligence practically gone.

“Girl. That is Lia Wälti, you know one of the best midfielders in the country? Arsenal Women’s player.” Now it’s your turn to look shocked, not at all knowing that she was a footballer. All the times you’d gone over to Marla’s house to watch footy, she’d probably been injured.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I didn’t even recognise her.” You lean against the door, sliding your body down until you’re sitting flush on the floor, head in your hands. Jason places his hand on your shoulder, smiling softly at you as he tries to reassure your overwhelmed mind.

“Hey, man, it was probably a good thing that you didn’t recognise her. She knows that you’re not some crazed fan trying to kill her, eh?” Marla’s hand plucks your cowboy hat from your head and runs her fingers through your hair, your shared shift started in mere minutes and yet they were there, comforting you.

“I’m okay, just a bit shell shocked.” They both laugh, pulling you up by your hands and bringing you into a group hug, patting your back before Marla gives you your hat back, smacking both you and Jason’s asses before disappearing out to her office.

“You know, we have an extra ticket to the Arsenal game on Sunday, so I mean if you want to see her again then you’re welcome to join.” You smile at the man’s kindness, telling him that you’ll definitely take him up on his offer. You didn’t have a shift at the bar either way that day so spending it looking for your … well you didn’t really know what it was she is to you. All you know is that you wanted to see her again.

Two days later you find yourself sitting as close to the pitch as you possibly can, waiting for the North London derby to start. 

Lia is in the starting lineup, looking determined as she waits for the whistle signaling the start of the game to sound. The shrill noise cuts through the air and the game starts.

It’s physical right from the start, loads of pushing and shoving coming from both sides, red and white. There are a few times where you nearly jump to your feet as Lia gets pushed but the fact that your friends sat there right beside you made you choose not to.

At half time the score is the same as the beginning, nil-nil. Despite not knowing much about football you join in on analyzing the first half of the game, mentioning all the times Lia went down. Marla makes some ‘innocent’ comments about how you’d much rather have her ‘go down’ somewhere else. The blush that overtakes your face is enough for you to blend in with your jersey, the red of the Arsenal shirt the same shade as your face.

When the second half starts, you’re basically on your feet all the way through, cheering loudly when Alessia scores, meaning that the gunners were up one-nil.

It’s particularly hilarious when Lia finally notices you, a pause in the game meaning that she had the time to look around at the fully packed Emirates Stadium. When those eyes you love to gaze into meet yours for the first time since Friday, her face split open in a smile, a smile reaching all the way up to her eyes.

It looks like she has to physically restrain herself so that she doesn’t run over to you, her body shaking slightly as she calmly inches her way towards you, the cheers of the fans around you becoming louder as the player comes closer. Lia tunes them all out though as she looks at you, the only thing cutting through her trance being the whistle signaling the freekick being awarded. 

Lia looks back towards you as she walks in the direction of the group of players and you wink at her, even though she’s far away it seems like she saw it, the deep tint of red dusting her face definitely more than exertion from the game. 

When the three loud whistles sound throughout the arena, it explodes in cheers as Arsenal manage to keep their one-nil lead and in doing so make London red again. But you don’t even acknowledge the win when there’s a speeding Lia Wälti heading straight in your direction.

She only starts to slow down as she reaches the barrier which separates the fans from the pitch and players, with you standing up behind it to watch her come closer and closer with every quick step she takes.

Lia throws her arms around your torso when she comes close enough, the way that she had been longing for your touch had been driving her crazy in the days since you first met. She also knew that it wasn’t smart to do it all out in the open, fans and professionals alike were probably going to know everything about you within a few days. You didn’t seem to mind though, content with having her in your arms again.

Pulling away from her, you quickly take her face in your hands, looking her over to see if her face was scratched up from all the times she’d met the ground in the game. 

“Shit, darling, I think you spent more time on the ground in this game than on your feet. You ought to be more careful.” Your southern drawl is especially thick when you speak to her, the worry you’d experienced the entire game bubbling to the surface.

“I’m perfectly fine, I think you’re forgetting that I do this for a living.” She smiles at you reassuringly and you calm down fully, her hand placed on your arm a sure factor of it. Lia’s head turns to your side, looking directly at your friends who both send her starstruck looks. 

“Hi, I’m Lia.” The footballer smiles in their direction and they both remain in their seats, completely unmoving. She looks back to you concerned and in response you just laugh, they were apparently not expecting her to actually greet them. “Are they okay?” 

“I think they’re just a bit starstruck.” Gesturing towards their gaping mouths, Marla quickly slaps your hand away from her face, biting at the air to show you that she wasn’t afraid to bite.

“Oh okay, well do you think they want anything signed? I can ask the team, or maybe if you want we can go meet them?” Lia sounds unsure of herself, apparently doubting that her first impression on your friends was good.

“I think that they’d love that sweetheart. But judging from all the looks we’re getting from that same team, I do think they want you back.” You glance towards the women gathered in a clung in the middle of the pitch, all of them staring at you and Lia interacting. She sighs at their slightly invasive culture, but alas there wasn’t anything that she could do about it. When you smile and wave at them, you’re thoroughly amused when every single one of them repeats your actions back to you, some in confusion and some in amusement.

“A guard is going to tell you to follow him, just do as he says and we’ll meet again soon.” By that point the stadium was almost empty, everyone wanting to go home and brag about their team’s win over the archrival. So as Lia walks away from you, you’re totally free to stare at her ass, only stopping when Marla slaps your arm harshly.

“Did that just happen?” Jason asks shakily, running his hand down his face in embarrassment.

“You’re damn right it did.” You laugh at their stupid expressions, their embarrassment clear on their faces. “Well look on the bright side, y’all are going to meet the team.” With that their embarrassment turned into excitement, meeting their favourite athletes quickly turning their mood around.

“Y/n Y/l/n? Come with me and take your friends with you.” Walking around the labyrinth of slinging hallways and narrow paths, you appear in front of the locker room in no time, the loud music escaping the door a clear indicator of the Gunners good match.

“Now just wait out here until they come out, they’ll probably be out in a few.” The guard tells you unbothered, not caring at all that he’s leaving people he doesn’t know outside of the locker room.

“Yes sir.” You speak up clearly, mock saluting him as he disappears down the hallway with a sigh.

“I can’t believe that you’re 28, you act like a 12 year old.” Marla tells you jokingly, leading to you pushing her away from you. In the span of a few seconds both you and Marla find yourselves on the floor, engaging in a wrestling match. It only gets broken up when the sound of the door opening echoes through the hallway, both you and your best friend quickly getting on your feet.

“Nah what’s going on here?” A very amused Irish accented voice escapes the player exiting the locker room, one Katie McCabe staring at you and Marla.

“It was her fault.” You point at Marla so as to gesture that it was her who started it, the woman vehemently denying it.

“So I’m guessing you’re Lia’s cowboy then?” Katie completely ignores the blame game currently going on in front of her as she talks to you. Blushing at being called Lia’s, you quickly start to stutter out an answer.

“I- uhm yeah, I think so?” Laughter coming from behind the Irish woman makes you glance in the direction of the sound. Seeing Leah Williamson of all people is not what you expect, a bit starstruck yourself.

“Of course it’s the cowboy you buffoon, who else would wear a cowboy hat in London? You have to tell me where you bought the one Lia brought home, I need a new one. Mylie-moo chewed mine to filth a couple days ago.” Leah throws her arm around your shoulder as if you’d known each other for years, the woman clearly having heard a thing or two about you.

“Oh well I’ll be sure to bring you one next time I go back to Texas, my buddy Carl, he’s 72 and he makes the most gorgeous hats you can imagine. Last time I visited him I made him an instagram page, I’ll send you the link if you want?” You speak enthusiastically with the England captain, her arm still resting around your shoulders casually. Both Marla and Jason are in a conversation with Katie and Lotte, who just got out of the locker room.

“Important question, so answer me truthfully now, do you like country music?” She looks at you skeptically, trying to deduce if you’re being truthful or not. The question itself makes you roll your eyes playfully, but alas it didn’t surprise you. It was widely known that Leah was quite the country fan.

“Ma’am I grew up in Texas, yeah I’m a country fan. I’d be disowned if I wasn’t.” Leah looks at you like you’re her hero, it was clear to you that she accepted you. The hinges of the door squeak as a few other players exit, namely Lia.

“Lia please let me steal her, she’s perfect.” Leah says jokingly, holding onto your arm softly like she was a little kid. Lia looks at her weirdly, but quickly catches on to the joke, walking over to the two of you.

“I know, that’s why I want to keep her.” Lia wraps her arms around your waist tightly, her newly washed hair curling up into adorable curls, head placed on your shoulder. 

“Sharing is caring.” Leah is on the verge of laughter as she talks, the statement a shocking one for sure. It was hilarious though so you also had to keep from laughing.

“I mean I wouldn’t mind-” Lia shoots you a mean glare at your half serious words, and even though it was like being glared at by an adorable kitten, Lia already had you wrapped around her finger. “Actually I’m taken so I don’t think that would work.” 

All it takes for you all to break character is a shouted ‘WHIPPED’ coming from one of the players watching the interaction like it was a soap opera, the three of you laughing like it was the last thing you’d do.

“Alright, anyone want a drink? Not to brag but I can make a mean cocktail.” The women all cheer as you ask them, everyone rushing out to get into their cars and get to the bar. Just as you’re about to follow them, someone takes hold of your collar, making it so that you can’t go. 

Lia looks back when you don’t follow her but you just wave her off, telling her to go on without you. Turning back, you’re met with all the ‘scariest’ Arsenal players, looking like they’re about to beat you up.

“Listen carefully now, because this will only be said once, if you hurt a hair on her head, do anything to hurt her emotionally, if you do anything wrong that makes her sad, we will not hesitate to take your knees.” It’s Katie that speaks, all the others just nodding intimidatingly, glaring at you. 

“I’m going to try my best to make her happy, I know that she deserves the world.” They let up the facade of intimidation at your words, patting your back and pushing you in the direction of the car park. The conversation as you all are walking out of the building is pleasant, when you arrive at the parking lot there are just a couple of cars left.

Both of your best friends had left you to carpool with one of the remaining players, Lia called dibs though the second she looked at you, so it was with her you went.

“They weren’t too scary with you right? I know how they can be.” Lia says over the soft music being played from the radio, some Tyler, the Creator song. You look at her face, she was in deep thought and absolutely adorable. 

“Nah, it’s like being threatened by a pair of teddy bears. Let’s just say that I’ve had worse shovel talks.” She giggles as you start to tell her about all the weird shovel talks you’d gotten back in Texas, everything from being threatened with Chinese water torture to being hung upside down from a tree for simply speaking to a girl that wasn’t her.

When the bar comes into sight you see that multiple people have parked their cars right in front of it, telling Lia to just park on the curb.

“Y’all are such dickheads.” You laugh, slapping both Marla and Jason’s heads hard, they left you stranded. 

“Well you’ve got a girlfriend now who can drive your broke ass.” Marla shoots back, rubbing her head in pain. You roll your eyes at her dramatic actions, the slap wasn’t that hard.

“One-nil to me then, at least I have someone.” The sibling like banter was normal between you two by now, she was your best friend after all.

“C’mon cowboy, let’s sit down for a little.” Lia’s hand rests on your stomach as you both sit down on the booth, the place to sit being suspiciously small, to the point in which Lia had to throw her legs over your lap to get enough space.

It was nice to sit and talk with the team, they were regular people just like anyone else and it made you glad to see them just relax after a match. The atmosphere was calm, so calm in fact that Lia managed to fall asleep on your shoulder, quiet snores escaping her mouth.

Only moments later you fall asleep too, after having fought sleep for as long as possible. Your head rests on top of Lia’s and the girls think it’s absolutely adorable, some of them taking pictures of you both to send to their group chat.

“I knew being friends with her would pay off.” Jason jokes, thinking naïvely that you were fully asleep, getting a few laughs from the girls in the room. They get startled though as you utter a quick;

“Hey!” In protest, everyone soon laughed at your dramatic reaction to his joke.

Who knew that going to the museum would result in you getting a date?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

So I 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your casual arrangement turns a bit too serious.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

A sheen of sweat coats your forehead, beading in the strands of your hair, your teeth gnashing as you strain to lift the bar just a little higher. Use your legs, you remind yourself. You suppress a grunt as your body trembles with the effort. 

“You got it, flex, you can do it,” a voice taunts from behind you. You roll your eyes and push up. Bucky steps closer and tickles along your hips. “Need a spot?” 

You growl and hook the bar in place, letting the weight off your shoulders. You step out of his reach and swipe up your towel. Your wipe your face as he comes around the weight rack and grabs your bottle out of your grasp. You growl as he squirts it into his mouth. 

“Thirsty?” He winks and wiggles the bottle. 

“What are you doing here?” You narrow your eyes and take the bottle from him. 

“Looking for a work out.” He winks. 

“Really? ‘Cause you’re not dressed for it.” You look him up and down. He’s in his usual; dark jeans, grey tee, canvas jacket. 

“Don’t need to dress up for the kinda work out I’m thinking of,” he snickers. 

“How’d you find me?” You challenge as you check your smartwatch. 

“Tuesday’s. You’re always too busy for me.” 

“Uh huh. And it’s a Tuesday. I’m busy.” You retort. 

“Ah, come on. I can help you with your cool down. Get you nice and stretched out.” He rests his hand on the barbells, his other on his hip as he leers at you. 

“You’re gonna need a good dose of protein after that,” he teases. 

“You’re gross.” 

“You love it. Come on. I'll take you by the shake place first. I’m a gentleman, you know?” He laughs and you shake your head. 

“Right. Let me change.” 

“Ah, I like you sweaty. Pheromones or whatever. You know, my sense of smell is enhanced.” He smirks. “I can even smell when you’re horny.” 

“Ew, shut up.” You jab his ribs and push past him. You sling your towel over your shoulder and strut off. He follows you. 

“Doesn’t this remind of old times?” He asks. 

You’re taken back to the day you met. Your first week in the gym. You were lost and you looked it. He helped you figure out the leg machine. He also fixed your form. Strange how time passes. 

“I feel like you were less annoying then.” 

“Really? Cause you were a lot more tense back then. Glad I could loosen you up, although your ass is looking tighter.” 

You stop at the locker room door and face him. “You--” You squirt the water bottle at him. “You’re gonna have to wait out here. Weirdo.” 

You spin and push through the door. You hear him growl as he’s shut out. You continue on to your locker and grab your bag. You unzip it and peel off your tank and leggings. You stretch and look around the empty space. You like to go on Tuesdays when it’s quiet. When you can focus. 

That isn’t easy lately. With work and the Bucky’s inconsistent consistency. Every time you think you have a moment to chill, he’s there to tie you up. You’re going to have to talk about boundaries. You’re going to be too busy to deal with his spontaneous drop-ins. 

You turn to grab your water bottle from inside the locker and as you turn back, you’re shoved against the cold metal. Your yipe is smothered in Bucky’s hands, his metal one around your throat. You wriggle and clutch his wrist. Your eyes round and flick side-to-side. 

He chuckles, “I got tired of waiting.” 

You murmur into his hand and slap his arm. Your heart picks up and a shiver rolls over you. You kick your feet around his. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt this with him. Panic. 

“Hey, just playing,” he drags his hand away and slackens his grip on your neck. “Don’t need be scared.” 

You take a deep breath and step away from the lockers. He stands back and watches you. His eyes rove up and down. He tilts his head. 

“Really, I wasn’t meaning to scare you. I was just...fucking around.” 

“It’s fine,” you shrug and reach for your blouse. “I was just surprised.” 

“Your heart’s still going--” 

“I told you, I hate that,” you hiss. 

“I can’t help it. I can’t not hear it.” He insists. 

“Just... go wait for me outside. I’ll be a minute,” you don’t look at him as you pull the shirt over your head. 

The reminders of how much stronger he is are jarring. At times, it's hot, at others, it's frightening. He's not just a man, he's more than that.

He lingers and sighs. His boot scuffs as he slowly slides it across the tile. He walks off and you listen for the door behind him. You blow out between your lips. 

You definitely need to have a talk. It’s all good and fun until he gets a face full of the mace you keep in your purse. Besides, he’s getting a bit clingy. This isn’t supposed to be that. It’s casual. It’s easy.

Well, it was. 

[majordemonblockparty]

girl!sam winchester would have such hot meangirl jock energy and I don't think we talk about that enough.

like, she's crazy fit from all the training john makes his girls do. she'd be running five miles before school anyway; at least this way she gets to do it with somebody other than her definitely-not-a-morning-person sister. her coach dead-ass asks at tryouts why she isn't going out for cross-country, too. sam never has a issue when the team has their thrice-weekly sessions in the weight room, just does her reps and moves on. sure, she's maybe a little more aggressive on the field than is generally called for, but so what? winchester's a go-getter, and the best midfield anchor in the district.

sam winchester with her drugstore lipgloss and her dollar general powder fresh deodorant in her dad's old canvas gym bag, which most of the girls think is "retro" and "funky". sam winchester with a prewrap headband to corral her bangs and a braid hanging halfway down her back. (it's in sharp contrast to dean's hair, which is never past her shoulders in the winter and never past her chin in the summer; dean, who buzzed her own hair and then sam's down to the scalp when they were six and ten, respectively, and then told a baffled john that it was so monsters couldn't grab ahold of them by their pigtails. I had to do sammy's too, daddy, 'cause she doesn't know enough to protect herself. meanwhile sam sat on the bathroom floor with fistfuls of dark hair in her hands, asking john through her sniffles if he could put it back, please, she doesn't like what dee did to her hair. john told their school they'd gotten lice and he'd panicked. sam fights every haircut after that with shrieks and tears for six straight years.)

sam winchester whose teammates make fun of her weird lesbo sister, the one who's usually sitting in the stands with her cigarettes and walkman and stolen library copy of the complete works of vonnegut, or else parked in the stupid old car, staring at them while they scrimmage. dean winchester, who wears ratty men's clothes from the salvation army (they're not, sam never corrects; they're just hand-me-downs from their dad) and is bombing out in trig.

anyways: sam winchester with more of the hot mean girl energy that jared padalecki exuded in the early 00's.

[mari-writes]

💕

At summer training camp in her second year, Yachi Hitoka notices a small, heart-shaped Pride pin on Akaashi Keiji’s sports bag.

She spends the first two days of camp agonizing if she should say something. Is it appropriate? Would Akaashi be weirded out? How does one casually initiate a conversation with a fellow gay?

So far Yachi has only told two people: a cousin, and her former crush/mentor, the incomparable Kiyoko Shimizu. She’s chatted with people online, but always anonymously.

The thought of coming out to someone new is terrifying.

But Akaashi, and really the entire Fukurodani Volleyball Club, have always been approachable. Yachi recalls running into Akaashi and his ace, Bokuto Koutarou at Nationals. They were so kind, easing her worries and doubts during an intense match. Despite being just as tall and intense as the other athletes Yachi regularly met, she never felt intimidated by the pair.

And so, she now finds herself peering nervously around the corner of the Ubugawa gymnasium to where Akaashi, now captain of Fukurodani, stands. He’s staring down at his phone, his bag casually slung over one shoulder. The rainbow pin gleams under the midday sun.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Yachi approaches. As she does, she sees that Akaashi is smiling. It’s subtle, just a slight twitch at the sides of his mouth, but it’s noticeable. She wonders vaguely what he’s looking at on his phone.

She chides herself for being nosey.

Akaashi hears her shuffling and looks up. “Ah, Yacchan.” He politely tucks the phone away. “Good evening.”

“Hello, um, hi, Akaashi-san!” Yachi stammers. “H-how are you?” She winces at her own awkwardness.

“Doing well, thank you.” He nods politely. “And you? Are you staying cool? Hydrated?”

“I’m okay!” Yachi bows back. “But yeah, it’s so hot out today!”

“You’re not a summer person, then?”

“Not at all!” She groans. “I feel like I’m melting!”

Akaashi chuckles. “You sound like Bokuto. He abhors the heat, especially when it’s humid as well.”

Yachi grins. “How is Bokuto-san doing? He’s at Central Sports University, right?” She assumes Bokuto keeps in touch with his old teammates.

Akaashi hums. “Moving from home was a big change, but he’s happy. His new team is a good fit.”

“I’m glad.” Yachi reaches down to fiddle with the hem of her t-shirt, unsure. She feels like she’s about to dive off a cliff, not knowing if there will be a net to catch her. Her anxious gaze shifts, and now the pin is in direct line of sight, as if taunting her. How can she bring it up?

“Yacchan?”

Yachi flinches, realizing she had been staring at the pin for a few beats too long. When she meets Akaashi’s gaze, he looks uncertain. Oh no! Does he think she has a problem with it? “Sorry!” She cries, arms waving frantically. “I didn’t know what to say, because… um, I saw it and I just…”

“This?” Akaashi’s fingers wander across the bag’s canvas and to the pin’s enamel surface. He taps it with one of his perfectly filed nails, lifting an eyebrow curiously.

Yachi swallows down her fear. “Yeah! It’s nice! Um, I’d like to find one for my book bag!”

Akaashi looks mildly surprised, but his face softens quickly. “I see.”

“Haha, yeah…”

“So.” Akaashi clears his throat. “You’re…”

“Yeah!” Yachi says again hands tighten into fists excitedly. “I’m gay!” Her ears burn in embarrassment as her companion bites his bottom lip, trying not to laugh at her outburst.

“Well, thank you for sharing that with me, Yacchan.”

Yachi releases a shaky breath, grinning back nervously. For a while they are silent. Cicadas buzz above, gym shoes squeak on hardwood nearby. She wonders if Akaashi is feeling the same sort of content relief at finding another queer person to confide in.

“When did you know?”

“Huh?” It takes a moment for her to discern Akaashi’s question. “Oh! Um, well. Back in first year, I had a crush on someone, but at first I didn’t know it was a crush!” She recounts the clarity she experienced, when she finally understood her feelings. It was like everything suddenly shifted into focus.

It had been hard, accepting that Kiyoko couldn’t return her feelings. But she is forever grateful for the older girl—for her influence, kindness, her support when she came out.

“How are you doing now?” Akaashi asks kindly, causing Yachi to relax further.

“Well, I’m glad I know who I am! But now I basically fall in love with every pretty, nice girl I meet!” She sighs. “It’s tiring!”

Akaashi chuckles. “I suppose I can’t relate exactly. I’ve only ever had feelings for one person.”

Yachi leans in curiously, waiting for her companion to continue on his own. She doesn’t want to pry.

“I always found guys attractive,” he says finally. “But when I came out in middle school, my parents told me to keep it to myself. They said I’d ‘grow out of it,’ so it wasn’t worth acting on.”

Yachi frowns. “I’m so sorry, Akaashi-san! I, um, think my mom will be supportive when I tell her. I’ve heard her talk positively about the marriage equality movement…”

Akaashi’s eyes crinkle as he smiles. “I’m glad to hear. But remember, even if she doesn’t, you will find people who support and love you. I found that at Fukurodani. In fact,” he reaches into his pocket. “Let’s exchange numbers. If you ever want to talk, contact me. Bokuto, too. Anytime.”

A surge of affection hits Yachi. It’s overwhelming, how it wells up inside her, through her heart and into her throat. Not since Kiyoko had she felt so seen by another person. “Thank you,” she croaks, blinking furiously. (She is not crying. She’s not!) “Wait,” she says, realizing what Akaashi had said. “Bokuto… I mean, is he also…”

Shyly, Akaashi nods. “I’m sure he’d be okay with me telling you. Bokuto is bisexual. And, well…” His voice lowers slightly. “He and I… we’re together.”

Yachi feels like she might fall over at the news. Akaashi and Bokuto, two of her favorite people in the entire world, are dating? Incredible!

“That’s wonderful!” She cries, hands pulling into fists  in excitement. He chuckles, sharp cheekbones going pink. 

“Thank you. I… have to agree...”

From then on, Yachi and Akaashi grow closer. They spend time together at training camps, keeping in touch in between. They end up at the same university and often meet up to study together.

Yachi confides in Akaashi and Bokuto, who give her advice before she comes out to her mom. They encourage her to ask out a girl in one of her classes, celebrating when she gets her first date.

Over the years, Yachi meets many other queer people who become incredibly important to her. But she never loses touch with Akaashi. The connection they made that one summer day in high school remains a defining moment in her life.

She’ll forever be grateful.

//

Thanks for reading! I wanted to expand this for A03 but as usual these days, I lost the motivation. I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless! Please REBLOG and/or REPLY if you did. 🥰❤️ Thanks for your continued support!

[easybrainrot34]

🖼️Lil Benedict Bridgerton Headcanons Pt 2🖼️

Woohoo part 2 baby!! Part 1 is right here! Some of these are modern!AU some of these are Regency era. As I said before I am truly a ✨slut✨ for this man. Hope y’all enjoy 😊

All r fluff and crack. Bonus Polin Headcanon ❤️

🎨= modern!AU

🎻= Renaissance era

🎨🎻= either

Also mentioned : Colin, Anthony, Kathony, Queer!Eloise, Gregory, and Polin

Ps, my ask and request r open :)

🎨 He went on a gap year before college to travel the world. He went kinda everywhere but he’s not one of those people that’s pretentious and has to talk about it all the time (no shade Colin, he’s more of an excited puppy about where he’s been anyway)

🎨 During cov!d he really honed in on his skills as an artist but also got really into skincare and hair care. Now he does a whole curly hair care routine because even though I can see him keeping his hair on the shorter side, he still likes it to have a little body.

🎨🎻 He would never admit it to Anthony (at least sober) but he wants the love that Kate and Anthony have for each other. He is such a hopeless romantic and I think he wants nothing more in this world than to find someone he feels he truly can’t live without.

🎻 Now we all know Benedict goes to balls more out of family obligation than actually wanting to, but I truly feel like once he’s married, he wants you to throw balls every season. He loves being able to show you off and what better setting them a ball with you as the person of honor. I also feel like he would enjoy throwing balls/parties for his more artistic, not part of the ton friends.

🎨 Now let’s say this is a modern AU where Eloise is a lesbian and our dear Ben is bisexual. I feel like when Eloise came out to him and said “I’m gay” he said, with no hesitation “you too?” I feel like the next day this man would just barge into her place with a gift bag full of Girl in Red, Chappell Roan, and Raneé Rapp albums, a pride flag, and a Carabiner. She would give him the “these are all stereotypes” lecture, but truly she appreciates it.

🎨🎻 I feel like he is very weak willed when it comes to his nieces and nephews. Like he is the favorite uncle, yes it took him bribing the kiddos, and yes he has no shame about it. He would stay firm with them (respecting the majority of set rules) but he will let them get away with small things. It will take him having his own kiddos to understand where everyone is coming from. (trust & believe that the siblings take their revenge)

🎨 He’s weak for a sundress. Weather it’s a cute little flower print, or a simple solid color, he just loves a little flowy sundress. I can’t explain it. It’s just this man’s weakness. (Btw this is what I mean when I say sundress, because apparently the Internet is having a debate about this right now lol)

🎻 Y’all remember when people were painting on each other’s bodies during Covid? Yeah he would do that. I feel like he would very much use u as a canvas during yall’s honeymoon. I feel like it would also end in a little ✨spicy time✨

🎨 While I can really see this man not giving a fck about whether he is fit or not I feel like as he starts to get a little bit older (late 30s early 40s) he would sign up for the gym. I feel like this will be a combination of him wanting to, but also Anthony, Colin, and Gregory would tease him about getting a “dad bod”. He knows though that you love it so he wouldn’t try to get too fit, just enough to be a little toned.

🎨🎻BONUS🎻🎨

He has such a fondness for Pen. This man is in her corner, if her and Colin get into a fight he automatically is taking her side. If he sees Cressida doing some shady sh!t he’s calling her out right then and there. I also feel once Colin and Pen announce their engagement, he would go to her and say “I’m sorry it took him so long to realize what we all knew” AHHH I JUST KNOW HE SHIPS POLIN!!!

[lunaroserites]

Art and Ice - Ground Rules

Pairing: Eventual Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Characters: Natasha, Wanda, Pietro, Loki, Bucky, Sam Wilson, Clint Barton, a lot of the avengers cast is mentioned.

Summery: Bucky and Doodle spend some quality time together.

This might a 2 or 3 parter (it's gonna be more because cannot help myself). College AU, our boy Bucky is on the hockey team, and reader is an art major (because I love that trope and couldn't help myself)

Warnings: Not beta'd! All mistakes are my own. Friends fluff, swearing, mentions of college students being college students. Bit of friendly harmless flirting between friends. Bucky is a playboy. Flirting. Mentions of not eating or drinking for a hours (ADHD Brain)

Word Court: 2859

Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! ❤️

Please do not repost, translate or otherwise copy my work elsewhere, without my express permission, thank you! Lunaroserites on tumblr and ao3

Catch up here: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 ❤️

You didn’t see Barnes the next day, which wasn’t surprising, it was Friday night after a win so celebration extended into the start of the weekend. Saturday was much the same, you toiled away in the art room in front of a large sketch pad trying to get something together while your canvas dried. 

You also had a small piece you were working on for a gallery wall you were doing for a local gallery that was happening once the semester ended. So your plate was full and adding the insistent nagging from your brain to find Barnes, your patience was wearing thin. 

You threw the paint brush at the sink, it sailed in a smooth arche before clattering in the paint covered sink. You ran your hands over your face and groaned as you leaned forward, elbows planted in the table. Your mind is running amuck and making you lose patience. 

“Doodle,” the new brush you were holding snapped in your tense grip as you looked up, startled. Barnes was standing at the door holding a bag that smelled delicious and your stomach growled. You may have forgotten to take a break and eat. 

“Barnes,” you said, your tone tense. His eyebrow quirked up as he walked in and placed the bag down a few feet away. 

“Are you okay,” your hand kinda hurt from snapping the brush a moment ago, and your head was killing you with a raging headache. Which might be because you haven’t eaten in a while or because you were thirsty. You took a deep breath and nodded. 

“Yeah, just a little stressed,” you answered. The smell of the food in the bag makes your mouth water and your stomach twist in an uncomfortable way. “What can I do for you?” 

“You weren’t at practice all weekend. Nat said you were hauled up in the art room,” he said nonchalantly, you just stared at him. “And I figured I would stop by and check on my favourite girl,” he said confidently, and you rolled your eyes in response. Your stomach decided that moment was the best time to make its presence known and grumbled loudly. Your cheeks immediately darkened in embarrassment. 

“And she said you most likely didn’t eat,” the look on his face caught you off guard, he had a look of genuine concern etched on his features. “She knows you well,” he mused, his tongue poked between his teeth as he winked at you. You leaned back against your chair and extended your hand and gestured to the chair across from you, prompting him to sit. He took a seat across from you and smiled. “I hope you like burgers,” he said as he pulled the bag over. 

“I don’t mind them, are they from Gus’s?” You asked, he nodded. 

“I wasn’t sure what you drank so I got water,” he added, pulling a couple water bottles out of his gym bag. You smiled and chuckled a little at how thoughtful he was being. 

“Waters fine,” you accepted the bottle and cracked it open and drank half it one go. He eyed you suspiciously and you gulped down hard. “I get lost in what I’m doing and sometimes forget to eat or drink,” you mumbled under his intense gaze. 

“That’s not healthy,” he muttered, pulling out a burger and handing it to you. You accepted and opened it up, taking a bite and biting back the moan you almost let out. 

“I know, but when I’m in the zone. I just don’t realise how much time passes,” you said softly, he nodded and you two ate the food in a comfortable silence. 

“Thank you,” you said as you threw out the garbage and sat back down. 

“No problem, can’t let ya starve,” he chuckled and rubbed his chin in his hand. “What’s ya working on?” He asked and looked at the few pieces shattered behind you and a shadow box a few feet away from you. 

“Uh, a project for an art exhibit once schools out,” you answered. 

“Mind if I work on some homework? It’s quieter here than my house,” you raised an eyebrow at him, that was unexpected. “What?” he asked. 

“Nothing, don’t mind me,” you said as you looked down to work on the piece for the shadow box. Your eyes drifted up every now and then as you observed him working on what looked to be some kind of science homework. 

His eyes wandered over your frame every now and then as he took in your look of complete concentration as you worked with a small piece of clay. He couldn’t help but appreciate the dedication you had toward your craft. 

“What are you working on?” You asked after some time. 

“Science homework,” he gave you a cheeky smile. You gave him a deadpan expression. “It’s space stuff,” he answered. 

“What about space stuff?” You asked, genuine curiosity laced your tone. 

“I’m learning about stars,” he tilted the book he was reading, it was open to a diagram of a star. 

“Oh neat!” You took a closer look at the diagrams and then looked back at him. He was rubbing his neck with a sheepish look on his face. “I did a project a couple years ago on Saturn,” you pulled your phone out and showed him a picture. 

“Wow, you did a fantastic job,” he took your phone for a moment to get a closer look at it. “Wait, that looks familiar,” he looked up at you again. “That looks like the one in the observatory.”

“That’s because it is,” you chuckled. His eyes widened a little and his smile broadened. 

“I made out with a girl right next to it,” he chuckled and your smile dropped and you busied yourself with another piece of clay. 

“That’s great,” you forced out through the firm line your mouth was now set in. 

“Why do you do that?” He asked suddenly, noticing your immediate change in demeanour. You looked up and your eyes narrowed at him. 

“Do what?” 

“That? Get all closed off when I say something you don’t like,” he asked. 

“Because I really didn’t need to know you made out with a girl next to my art piece,” you stated. “I was told if I have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” 

“I’m not a child, I can handle criticism,” he defended. 

“That’s not the point. Have you ever once sat down and just chatted with a girl without the expectation of sex afterwards?” You asked, your tone very genuine. He sat back in his chair and looked anywhere but your face. 

“No. Not in a long time,” his answer caught you guard. You were expecting some snide comment or a lie. When you looked at his face, he looked completely sincere. You took a deep breath knowing the answer to the question you were about to ask. 

“Is that why you’re here now?” You didn’t recognize the voice that asked the question. It was soft and meek, nothing like your usual cadence. He didn’t answer right away, and based on the look on his face he didn’t really know what to say or how to answer. 

“Honestly,” he took a deep breath and looked at his hands. “Probably. Maybe. I don’t know. At first definitely. The first time I spoke to you it was. But I don’t know,” his rambling gave away how honest he was being. “I still want to,” he paused, “to still sleep with you. I also want to hang out with you. And get to know you.” 

You couldn’t help the slight upturn of your lip as you released a long inhale, “thank you for being honest.” 

“I might be a prick. But at least I’m an honest one,” he tried to joke. His smile dropped when you didn’t laugh. “So where does that leave us now?” 

“I don’t know Barnes. I don’t want to sleep with you. But I don’t want you to take that as a challenge to get me to sleep with you. If you truly want to be friends, and we get to know one another with no ulterior motives, then we can do that,” you didn’t want to sugar coat it. You also didn’t have the balls to admit you had a tiny crush on him because that would go straight to his dick and this conversation would be pointless. 

“Well to start you could start calling me Bucky, Barnes is so detached,” he gave you a small smile. 

“Well that was the point,” you chuckled. “But okay, Bucky.” His smile grew larger and he pumped his fist in the air. 

“I’m still calling you Doodle though,” he said, his tone serious as he stared at you. 

“That’s fine, I guess,” you chuckled while rolling your eyes at him. 

“So how much of my piece is finished?” He asked, you couldn’t help but laugh and pointed over your shoulder to the large canvas behind you. “That’s empty.” 

“I know. I have to get some practice sketches  done first before I paint on the big canvas,” you decided to not mention the two you ruined.

“Can I see the practice sketches?” He asked hopefully. 

“Sure,” you relented and passed the sketch pad over and watched him look at it. 

“How do you do that?” He asked, passing it back a moment later. 

“Draw?” You raised an eyebrow at him. He nodded. “I just do, it takes a lot of practice and effort. I could ask the same of you, how do you skate so effortlessly?” 

He smiled for a moment before answering, “I guess it’s the same. I just get on the ice and go. The moment I lace my skates up and I hit the ice everything else just fades away, it’s just me, my stick and the puck.” 

“For me, I pick up the pen, or brush and just start somewhere and get lost in it. It’s me, the brush and the canvas,” you finished. 

“Hey,” he was serious now, that caught your attention fully as you looked at him, “I wanted to apologise for what I said the other day…”

“Bucky,” you reached out and placed your smaller hand on his gently as you cut him off, “stop, it’s okay. We both said things that weren’t very nice. For what it’s worth.” You looked into his eyes sincerely, “I’m sorry too. It’s behind us now.” 

He smiled and nodded, “okay Doodle.” 

That conversation was the catalyst to your developing and lively friendship with Bucky, when the team wasn’t travelling for the away games over the next week he would sit in the art room and do his homework while you worked on the art projects you had due. 

It was Thursday night, Bucky was just getting to the art studio after practice when he saw you hunched over your sketch pad, your hands in your hair and you were sniffling. He entered and quickly threw his gym bag down and came around the table and crouched down next to you. He placed his hand on your forearm, trying not to startle you too much. You jumped anyway since you didn’t hear him come in, you were too wrapped up in your own thoughts to notice anything else.

“Doodle,” he said softly. “Everything okay?” You shook your head and slumped into his chest, that caught him off guard, he quickly wrapped his arms around you and hugged you back as you cried into his chest. As quickly as you collapsed into him you pulled back and shook your head. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out and placed your head in your hands. Bucky was a little stunned at how quickly your demeanour changed. 

“It's okay,” he stood and took his usual seat across from you. “Wanna talk about it?” You let out an exaggerated sigh and sniffled loudly. 

“My art professor is a bitch,” you groaned. “And I have a bunch more projects due and she’s just awful. If I didn’t need this course to graduate I would have dropped it.” You pressed your cheek against the table and closed your eyes. 

“What did she do?” Bucky asked.

“After class she decided to tell me she doesn’t know why I bother trying, and that the school was foolish to offer, a no talent, wannabe one of the only full ride scholarships offered for the arts,” you were crying again. You had spent years honing your craft, and fought tooth and nail for the scholarship that allowed you to attend school here. 

“She’s probably just jealous,” you laughed at that, Nat had said the same thing when you texted her earlier about what happened. 

“I have an appointment with the head of the department tomorrow afternoon. This isn’t the first time she’s been awful to me,” you didn’t see his fist clench and the momentary anger flash across his face as you said that. 

“I wouldn’t listen to her Doodle,” Bucky reached across the table and patted your arm gently. “Your art is awesome, and you’re incredibly talented,” he finished. You smiled against the table and lifted your head up to send him a thankful look.

“Thanks Bucky, that means a lot,” you sighed and whipped your eyes with the back of your hand and rolled your shoulders. “I got some stuff done on your portrait,” you said, your voice still a little coarse, but you felt a lot better. His face lit and his full attention was on the covered canvas behind you. You stood and pulled the cover off and showed him, you had some of the out lining done, the positioning and scale perfect. You felt very proud of it so far. 

“Holy shit Doodle,” Bucky stood and got closer to admire the outlining. “You know, once this is done, you should get them to let you display it in the sports annex,” he had a smug tone as he said this. You chuckled and rolled your eyes. 

“Maybe if you bat your eyelashes at the department head, and ask him really nicely, he’ll let me,” you bumped your hip into his and smirked up at him. He smiled down at you and the softness in his eye made your heart skip a beat, you quickly cleared your throat and moved from him to grab a pencil. 

“I’m going to work my homework, and stay out of your way,” Bucky said softly as he moved from your side to sit down again. You smiled looking down at your feet before you started to do some more outlining. 

His eyes would shift from his homework every so often and they would rove over your body. He knew he didn’t have a shot in hell at getting you to agree to sleeping with him, you made that clear and he was really trying to make sure he kept that at the forefront of his mind when he was around you because he really did want to be friends with you.

But those leggings you wore hugged the curve of your ass so perfectly it was making it difficult. He felt his mouth dry out a little as he watched you rock from side to side as you drew on the canvas, and he involuntarily let a low whistle when you stretched up and exposed some of the soft skin of your back. 

You immediately turned and looked at him with a raised brow and squinted at him, full judgement. “Barnes,” you were warning him, he raised his hands up in surrender. 

“Not my fault you look amazing, it's a crime,” he defended himself with a cocky tone. You couldn’t stop the blush that crawled up your neck and on to your cheeks. 

“You’re insufferable,” you groaned, turning your back to him again, the blush still strong on your cheeks. He laughed loudly, before going back to his homework. You couldn’t keep the little smile off your face, you knew he used that line on countless girls, and it was probably a line he used often to get in their pants, but damn he was such a smooth talker, and he said all the right things in the right tones. You hated that you longed for his compliments. 

It was quiet for a while longer, just the sounds of pencils on paper and canvas filling the air.   

“Hey Doodle,” you hummed in response, not wanting to look away. “There is a final game just before playoffs, it's here, do you think you’ll come?” 

“I thought Nat said you guys were done with the home games now,” you still didn’t look at him, trying to make sure your scale was correct. 

“This one isn’t a regular season game, but I think you’ll really enjoy it,” he was being incredibly cryptic about whatever it is. You turned now, and raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Then what is it?” You asked as you eyed him. 

“Surprise, but I promise you’ll love it,” he sounded so earnest that you couldn’t help but believe him. 

“Okay,” I chuckled. “I’ll go,” you relented, trying to hide your genuine excitement. 

Taglist: @vicmc624, @calwitch, @learisa, @aaqua-tofana

Feel free to send me a message if you have a request or would like more, or would like to be added to the tag list ❤️

[bradshawsbaby]

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to wake you.” With Harrison? Pretty please? 🙏🏼

Harrison Knott, the man that you are! I’ve actually never written for him before, so I hope I did him justice!

Your lips curved into the faintest of smiles as you felt a kiss ghost across your temple, convinced you were having a lovely dream. But when you felt another kiss brush against your cheek, you started to stir, realizing that the warm, sturdy body hovering above yours was more fact than fantasy.

Blinking the sleep out of your eyes, you lifted your head off the pillow, groggy and confused, especially when you glanced at the clock on your bedside table and registered the fact that it wasn’t even 6am.

“Harrison?” you mumbled with a yawn, barely able to keep your eyes open as you laid your head back down and curled up under the blankets.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispered, his voice low and tinged with a bit of his own sleepiness. “Just didn’t want to leave without giving you a kiss goodbye,” he chuckled sheepishly, one of his large hands coming to rest on your back.

“Leave?” you demanded, your eyes flying open this time. You sat up immediately and pointed out the window, where the canvas of the sky was just being painted with strokes of purple, pink, orange, and yellow. “The sun’s barely up,” you told him with a pout.

“I know,” he laughed, leaning forward to peck your lips. “But right now’s the best time to hit the beach before the tourists show up.”

It was only then that you realized your boyfriend was wearing nothing more than a pair of board shorts, the gym bag where he kept his wetsuit sitting next to the bedroom door.

“Don’t go,” you protested, pushing the covers back so you could lean forward and wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. “Stay here. With me,” you grinned, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips for emphasis.

“I thought you wanted to sleep in,” he laughed, wrapping an arm around your waist and lowering you onto your back, stretching his massive frame out on top of you. “Hm?” he teased, dropping soft, open-mouthed kisses on your neck.

“I believe my exact words were, ‘I want to stay in bed all morning,’” you corrected him with a smirk. “Didn’t specify what we’d be doing.”

“Oh?” He lifted his head, gazing down at you with an arched brow.

“You can go surfing tomorrow,” you whispered, reaching for the drawstrings of his board shorts.

His breath hitched as he leaned down, brushing his nose against yours. “Staying in suddenly sounds like a really good idea.”

late night prompts

[kodiakleather]

Best Canvas Gym Bag

Looking for the best canvas gym bag? Choose one that combines durability, style, and spaciousness. Canvas gym bags are perfect for the gym, offering a sturdy yet fashionable option for carrying your gear. Look for water-resistant fabric and multiple compartments for organization and easy access.

[forbidding-souda]

Heyoooooo! Before requesting anything, may I say that your writing is truly AWESOME!! Everything fits the character so well aaa I adore it!!! Keep up the amazing work!!!

Can you plz do some head cannons for Korekiyo, Ibuki and Kazuichi being roommates with their S/O in a small dorm? I think it'd be a cute scenario (sorry if it's a bit much :'] )

Shinguuji Korekiyo, Ibuki Mioda, and Kazuichi Souda living with their S/O in a small dorm

just bullet points for this one because i'm a litttllleee head empty. ALSO TY FOR THE COMPLIMENT IT MEANS THE WORLD!!!!!

i am highly qualified to write this. Bruh I have lived in three different dorm buildings bc I did a swap since my first roommate was homophobic LOLZ. The second dorm I lived in was a corner room so we had a lot of room compared to the others gg but the first dorm i was in was TINY as if it wasn't 1.7k a month like dude come on.

I'm an english major and a child development major btw hmu I'm so cool and awesome. Join the discord to see me post about the funny things my english professor puts on canvas LMFAO.

I added in a bit of just college stuff.

-Mod Souda

Shinguuji Korekiyo

❤ His desk is so full of trinkets that he can hardly use it. Probably just studies in his bed.

❤ He'll gift you some and clutter your side of the room, too.

❤ Lights candles even though they're not allowed.

❤ Incense too.

❤ But he has a good sense of personal space and he keeps to himself. Even when the two of you are dating, he understands the difference between his side of the room and your side of the room.

❤ However, you can sneak into his bed :3 he wouldn't mind.

❤ Just don't sleep on his hair plz he leaves that shit sprawled out.

❤ No bc you probably have his loose hair everyone on the carpet swear to god.

❤ Anthropology major obvi.

❤ Takes academics very seriously!!!

❤ Will just walk around in long sleeves regardless of the weather.

❤ If you're the type of person to study and not go to the dining commons then he'll eat there and then bring you a to-go box.

❤ Definitely keeps sake in his mini fridge.

❤ Isn't on the snap story.

❤ Ask before you use his stuff because he's probably gonna start tweaking if he notices something out of place.

❤ He does not like showering in those dorm showers. He'll probably go to the gym or something.

❤ Probably uses a computer bag instead of a backpack.

.

Kazuichi Souda

❤ Your stuff is his stuff now.

❤ Pushes your beds together. (LMFAOOO)

❤ Mechanical engineering major perhaps. Ngl I only know two of them and idk what they be learning but it sounds about right.

❤ Never does his laundry on time. He leaves it in the dryer.

❤ He doesn't clean for the RA checks either.

❤ And he definitely doesn't care about privacy when it comes to changing. He's just gonna get naked in front of you fr.

❤ He gets doordash a lot.

❤ Will wait for you after class. Or he might have the audacity to just crash one of your lectures.

❤ Walks around the dorm in his underwear.

❤ I'd like to imagine he brought a mirror in the room so he can add the braids in his hair in private awwwww.

❤ Sharpens his teeth in the other bathroom tho gg.

❤ You can spell his cologne from your bed.

❤ Keeps his textbooks on the floor near his bed but the dorm is so small you almost trip over them.

❤ Doesn't take out the trash either.

❤ Uses the campus gym all the time.

❤ If he's not in the dorm he's either at class or hanging out in the gym.

❤ If you do yoga then you can easily convince him to do yoga with you.

❤ His fits are probably firrreeee. But I imagine he wears the same shoes every day.

.

Ibuki Mioda

❤ Will ask to keep things on your side of the room.

❤ You will be in class and then come back to her sleeping in your bed.

❤ Ibuki plz stop dying your hair in the public sink please you're staining the sink PLEASE.

❤ Doesn't even raise her hand in class she just starts talking. Which ik is normal but she like . will just start talking.

❤ Music major? Or is that too obvious. Could be pop culture too. I'm leaning more towards pop culture.

❤ Goes on long rants about like 2300 about what she did in her classes.

❤ She talks as she studies. Is she even studying? You can't tell.

❤ Study date except it's her talking the entire time with Canvas open but not looking at anything.

❤ Probably leaves her pajamas on the floor when she changes in the morning. You can just put them back on her bed for her.

❤ Like Shinguuji, she will also just have her loose hairs everywhere.

❤ She is a bit of a pervert and is like "you can change in front of me :) it's okay :) you can change in front of me :)" (pleading).

❤ Is going to use your body wash without telling you.

❤ Probably plays her music hella loud and the RA will have to knock bc of complaints LMFAO.

❤ ^ Also rents a vaccuum at 3AM and uses it.

❤ Probably gets opps bc of this ^

❤ If she wears a school uniform in Danganronpa then I'm gonna headcanon that she wears merch of the college.

[simstorian-blog]

Skye Wellness Center

(CC List + Links)

World Map: San Myshuno

Area: Skye Fitness

Lot Size:  30 x 20

Amenities: Gym, Yoga Studio, Pool, Buffet, Retail – Fashion Boutique

Gallery ID: Simstorian-ish

Packs Needed

Expansion Packs

Get Famous

Get Together

Get To Work

Growing Together

Eco Lifestyle

High School Years

For Rent

Snowy Escape

Game Packs

Dine Out

Parenthood

Outdoor Retreat

Spa Day

Stuff Packs

Home Chef Hustle

Laundry Day

Moschino

Game Packs

Desert Luxe

Build Mode

Felixandre

Colonial Pt. 3 (Parasol, Tiles)

Grove Pt. 1 (Plaster Floor)

London (Panels)

Harrie

Klean Pt. 2

Klean Pt. 3

Octave Pt. 2 (Flooring, Lights, Plaster Panels)

Spoons Pt. 3 (Simple Panelling)

LittleDica

Countryside Cabin (Floor Trim)

Peacemaker

Simple Siding (both)

Syboubou

Elevator (Required Mod)

Tuds

Beam Kitchen (Concrete Tile Floors & Walls)

Buy Mode

AggressiveKitty

Beauty & Spa (Lounger)

BostyNY

Chroma Essentials 1 (Lamp)

CharlyPancakes

Lavish (Shoe Boxes, Sneakers)

Felixandre

Berlin Pt. 1 (Curtains)

Fayun Pt. 1 (Desk Chair, Loveseat, Screen, Trunk)

Fayun Pt. 2 (Coffee Table, console Table, Dining Chair + Table, End Table)

Harlix

Bafroom (Mirrors)

Harrie

Brownstone Pt. 3 (Wall Canvas, Vase)

Coastal Pt. 7 (Bench)

Kwatei Pt. 3 (Stool)

Spoons Pt. 1 (Wallmounted Sign)

KTA

Vogue Prints 1 (Mesh Needed)

Ledger Atelier

Artobe Deco Bag (DL on Patreon)

MDN Thesari Column (DL on Patreon)

LittleDica

H&B Store (Entrance Alarm)

Nando

Fashion Store

Pierisim

MCM Pt. 4 (Kitchen Island)

Woodland Ranch (Rug)

Ravasheen

Counter-fit

Shop Chef Buffet

Simplistic

RusticLife Rug

Sundays

Kediri Pt. 1 (Ceiling Light)

Kuta Pt. 3 (Stool)

Gaza Collection (Glass Pendant)

Syboubou

Crossfit Reborn Set (Need this MOD for machines to function)

Tuds

Ind 03

Mirr Kitchen (Sink)

Wondymoon

Fraxinus AIO Computer (DL on Patreon)

DO NOT REUPLOAD MY LOTS.

DO NOT CLAIM THEM AS YOUR OWN.

DO NOT PLACE BEHIND A PAYWALL.

Tray Files: DOWNLOAD

[days-until-burnout]

Heyy:3

I'm the anon with the tangtho request, and I have returned with an ethubs request in maybe a modern au neighbor setting??

Your posts have become a part of my day and remind me to invest time into writing too so thank you for that <3

thank you for coming back and reading! it's a weird feeling to know people read these daily lmao and go crush that writing! ain't nothing stronger than you are<3! without further ado, your ethubs _____

📧 Day 59 -

Characters - Etho/Bdubs Words - 1,006 Time - 30 mins Content - Modern AU

Bdubs stands in front of his neighbor's door, knocking for the third time as he grows annoyed. Not only did he have to walk down to the ground floor for his mail, but then he had to walk up again after being told they might have accidentally put it in his neighbor’s pile, which they might have taken already. He had already checked with the person on his left, then the person in front, leaving him only with one more room or a potential Karen-scene downstairs. 

Truth be told, as he crosses his arms after knocking yet again, huffing with tapping feet, he has been having a horrible, no good, week. And to top it all, his set of paints might be with someone else. All he wants is to paint, just anything, a scenery, some forest, hell, even just throw paint into the canvas. It was a very, very no good week. And tomorrow, he has work. Just, great. Wonderful. 

It is almost midday on a Sunday, yet he is so ready to crawl into bed and call in sick tomorrow, staying all day in bed being miserable sounds like an amazing idea. Horrible for his schedule and everything else, but he is in no state to be making logical decisions. 

He sighs. Stinkin’ paints, he mutters to himself as he accepts defeat, unenthusiastically admitting that maybe his neighbor is not home. He knows nothing of them, having recently moved in, and by the lack of encounters, their schedules did not align at all. A little unfortunate, seeing as he gets along with the other people on the floor, but it is whatever. Win some, lose some, and now, all Bdubs really wants, is to pass out for the next four—

“Oh, something I can help with?”

Bdubs startles, blinking before shaking his head, then turns towards the voice. 

There, standing in front of him, is a guy he has never seen. He has unnaturally even white hair and pale skin, an almost faded scar running down his left eye, a black mask covering the lower half of his face. Bdubs notes, in a state of stupor, that he is wearing a short sleeve shirt and shorts with sport shoes, a gym bag slung across his shoulder. And Bdubs notes, creepily so, that he is sweaty. The muscles he can, and is, literally staring at are glistening with sweat, his eyes tracing up the arm to shoulder to the covered collarbone to the exposed neck to the mask then—

“My mail. Give it back.” He blurts out when their eyes meet, realizing how idiotic he is being. His words and his harsh tone take the strange by momentary surprise, both frozen on the spot. The stranger, a nice looking stranger, blinks then looks away, fishing for his keys in his bag before walking over, stopping a couple feet from him. 

“Uh, I need… to open my door?”

“Damn right you do!”

The guy stares at him with wide eyes, then a squint, and Bdubs steps aside, dropping his eyes in silent shame. If his internal thoughts were audible, he is sure the whole building would collapse. Regardless, he hears the keys then the lock unlocking. Slowly, he turns his face to the door after hearing some footsteps walking away. The door is wide open, giving him a direct view into the kitchen with no sight of the guy. He stays on the spot, not wanting to intrude, taking the distance to kick himself mentally. For being a creep and for being an asshole about being a creep. Not a good first meeting, and more than even, he thinks that he wants to become a full time hermit. Surely there are some jobs online, and he can get groceries delivered, and he can never show his face to the world ever again. 

The world meows. 

No. 

What?

Bdubs jumps back when something brushes past his leg, dropping his head to find an American Shorthair cat arching its back as it rubs against his leg. It meows and purrs, not at all scared of the giant. He breathes out, relaxing somewhat as he kneels down, extending his hand and the cat sniffs it. He smiles when the cat pushes its head against his fingers, wedging itself into his palm, and he takes the hint, promptly caressing and scratching its tiny head. 

“Hey, buddy, brave one, aren’t you?” He coos, and the cat replies with a purr. 

“More than someone else, it seems.” 

Bdubs looks up to see the guy walking over with a box in his hands, stopping just on the other side of the door. The shoes are gone and replaced with slippers, the bag gone, but the mask is still on his face. He grows curious about his face, which only reminds him how creepy he is being. After his earlier interactions, he has no doubt he has burnt the bridge without even finding it. 

Bdubs squeezes the back of his neck with his free hand, looking away in shame, “Sorry. Just… It’s been a rough week and I just wanted my package.”

The guy hums. 

“I’m, uh, Bdubs, by the way. Your neighbor, literally next to you. It’s, uh, unfortunate, huh?” He tries to joke, but his laugh is dry. 

“No, I don’t think so. Oreo likes you.”

He nods, looking at the cat who is now seated, staring at him with a curious look. “I, hm, I think I like Oreo too.” Gently, he gives its tiny head a final scratch before standing up, sighing as he prepares to confront him again. “Sor—”

“Oh, yeah, I’m Etho. And here’s your package.” 

The guy, Etho, passes the box into his chest, and he clumsily grabs it. Oreo meows then trots back into the apartment. Before Bdubs can say anything else, Etho gets ahead of him. 

“Well, then, I’ll see you around.”

The door closes with a click, and Bdubs stands in place like an idiot. Etho did not just wink at him, did he?

_____

ngl. i struggled to come up with an idea. my brain's been fixated on a different ask, but man, i keep fumbling the bag and missing my chance to write it ;_; anyways. ethubs

[menonlywrestling]

Tape Traders.

In the 80s and 90s, Pro Wrestling tape trading was very popular amongst fans. The more obscure, hard to find tapes would fetch big money, but mostly the more well known traders liked to hold on to the rarest items, for bragging rights.

One such tape, known only as 'Danny's Destruction' took on practically mythical status. Many people suggested it didn't even exist. Every trader coveted a copy of this tape.

The tape was said to feature a private underground match, filmed in a basement, featuring a hot young Pro called Danny Da Costa (23), who was facing off against an older wrestler known as Hangman Hennessey (60).

Apparently, young Danny took such a severe, prolonged pro beat down that he didn't wrestle again for six months, or ever, depending on who you spoke to. Everyone wanted to see this tape.

FFW to 2001, when a copy of the video was anonymously uploaded to an underground pro wrestling message board. The grainy vhs quality video was titled 'Danny's Destruction - Three hours of pro ring torture'

The video begins with footage of the younger HUNG wrestler already in the ring, hopping from foot to foot, stretching and pulling on the ropes, ready for action. While young Danny started off well, with some good back and forth, he eventually succumbed to the Hangman's continued attacks on Danny's right arm. Hangman then methodically puts Danny in every conceivable pro wrestling hold. No one had ever seen a 20 minute camel clutch applied, or a 30 minute Boston, before. The postings were brutal, as were the relentless standing elbow and knee drops. Focussed attacks on Da Costas arm continued. Hennessey looks to be in his element. He was getting on a bit and his best wrestling days were behind him. He seems to be relishing the opportunity to actually dominate in the ring again. The handful of men watching were enjoying every second, as they sat ringside on battered old sofas and armchairs, drinking and smoking. So turned on by all the moans, groans and the sound of bodies hitting the canvas. Some of them are also in pro gear and masks.

Around the two hour mark, exhausted Danny has clearly given up submitting, he knows the onslaught wont stop either way. Hennessey then tears Danny's singlet off and tosses it to the group, leaving him in just his pro boots. We see him spit into his palm and rub it onto his now raging hard cock, spit on Danny's hole then enter him. Hennessey fucks poor Danny for a solid 45 mins, seemingly enjoying hurting the younger man even more. Such stamina! When he eventually shoots his load deep into the younger man ass, with a massive groan, the men cheer.

It isn't the end for Danny though. Hennessey, still hard, put his trunks back on, scoops Danny over this shoulders and applies an absolutely brutal torture rack and parades Danny around the ring, one hand round his throat and the other squeezing his thick cock. Danny's body is limp now and it looks like he's going to be broken in half hes being bent so much. Like a power lifter, Hennessey hoists his victim above his head, then drops Danny into an over the knee back breaker. Again brutally bending him so much he looks ready to snap in two. He begins to start jerking Danny's cock, as he tightens the grip on his throat.

After a while he pushes Danny off his knee and leaves the ring. Is that it? Where has he gone? Is it over? During this the camera stays focussed on Danny, as he holds his throat, before panning to his ass and hard cock.

We then see Hennessey re enter the ring carrying a gym bag, from this he produces a long, thick chain with a leather collar on the end of it, and holds it above his head. The men cheer. Danny struggles as the older man tries to attach it round his neck. He knows whats coming. Several forearm smashes daze Danny, and its eventually strapped on.

Danny is tossed over the top ring rope and 'hung', with Hennessey still in the ring, pulling hard on the chain that's wrapped round his wrist. I guess this is why he's called The Hangman.

Some of the men take photos of a bloody Danny struggling, with one man even sucking Danny's dick as he squirms on the end of the chain. One man signals to Hennessey that Danny is out, and he lets go of the chain. Danny slumps to the floor.

The camera cuts to sometime after the fight has finished. Everyone is now in the ring and we see one masked man with the chain round his throat, sucking Hennessey off. One man is fucking Danny's ass, while another rubs his cock over Danny's bloody face, before fucking his mouth, and another sucks Danny's cock.

The video ends with a shot of Hennessey with a really stiff, tight sleeper on Danny, who is being forced to jerk off, until he cums on his hairy belly, while the men jeer in the background. Danny is eventually KOed again.

I hope it was worth the $50 Danny.

[jadequeen88]

Watchin' You

Summary:

He walked around the corner of the building that housed the showers when he saw them. Eddie knew that was your canvas bag, the very one he saw you pull out of the floorboard of his van when you got out. There was no mistaking that the black, lace boy shorts lying on top of your other clothes were yours. It looked like you’d stepped out of them and laid them right on the bag. That could only mean one thing… “Oh, fuck me sideways…” You’d been wearing these. You sat in Eddie’s van wearing these exact panties.

Notes:

I had a mighty need for more Virgin Eddie content that resulted in this monstrosity of a one-shot... that will have a part two! Let me know what y'all think of my characterization of our boy in the comments!

TWs: Virgin Eddie Munson, Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Eddie Munson Has ADHD, Vaginal Fingering, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss, First Time Blow Jobs, Panty Kink, Eddie Munson is a panty thief, Panty thief

“Hey.”

Eddie looks around his locker door to ensure he’s not hallucinating, that an actual, real-life girl is speaking to him.

“Y-yeah? Me?” goddammit, of course, his voice would choose to crack now.

“Yeah, you.”

Oh god, you’re pretty. Like, music-video-vixen level pretty. It’s terrifying.

“Um, what is it?”

“Smooth moves, jackass. Now you sound like a dick,” he thinks.

You bite your bottom lip, looking slightly amused. Ah, shit. You’re about to laugh in his face, aren't you?

“We’re twins,” you say, holding out the bottom of your t-shirt. Sure as shit, you are in matching Iron Maiden shirts. Eddie nearly faints. However, what he actually does could be considered worse than fainting in front of his dream girl.

“Oh,” he squeaks out, slamming his locker door and turning to walk away quickly.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! What the fuck was that?! his brain screams. The first time a girl speaks to him without ill intent, a girl who likes his favorite band no less, and he runs away like a bitch. Perfect.

That was the only interaction between you and the awkward metalhead in high school, but it was enough to make a lasting impression

.

After that day, Eddie soaked up any and all information about you that he could. He knew you had just transferred from Indianapolis and that you played the French Horn. You must be good because he discovered that you were first chair and section leader. Eddie knew that you liked to skip your third-period gym class to smoke. You often joked with your friends about how your days playing your instrument were numbered due to the bad habit (he may or may not also skip that period just to sit on the other side of the tall brick wall to hear your voice, not creepy at all, shut up).

He knew that you used expensive Italian perfume to cover the smell of cigarette smoke; something that in Eddie’s mind smelled like sophistication and raw sex appeal, but according to what you told Buckley, actually smelled like bergamot, sandalwood, and patchouli. He also knew you used cherry chapstick instead of lipstick in neon shades as other girls did. You didn’t wear much make-up, mainly eyeliner which made your eyes darker and more mysterious.

He knew that you mostly stuck to your group of band kids. There was this one time, however, when you saw Carol Perkins trip one of the chess team kids in the cafeteria. You gave her a black eye in front of the entire school and got suspended for a week. It was the most metal thing Eddie had ever seen.

He could write a novel about you. He could fill chapters describing how your hair caught the sunlight or how you twirled your rings around your fingers when you were concentrating on a test. He could write sonnets about your chipped, black nail polish and scuffed Docs. He could write dissertations about the intricacies of your music tastes and how closely they align with his tastes based on the bits of band merch you owned and how you chose to wear them.

But Eddie couldn’t fucking speak to you.

He considered it almost daily. But he’d always end up nauseous at the very thought of trying to approach you. So he never did, and you walked that stage in May of 1983 never to set foot in the halls of Hawkins High again. You got your diploma, went back to Indianapolis for college, and left Eddie behind to rot in the dusty trailer park he called home.

If you’d told Eddie then that a few years later, he’d be trauma bonded with Robin Buckley, Nancy Wheeler, and “King Steve” Harrington after fighting interdimensional monsters and saving the world, he’d have laughed in your face. But here he is, freshly graduated (finally), surrounded by friends, and sporting some gnarly scars to prove it all happened.

He was out by Steve’s pool (one of the perks of having a rich friend) watching the sunset and sharing stories with his friend over a beer. The crunch of gravel on the driveway drew their attention to the front of the house as they were standing to compare demobat scars.

“Buckley and Wheeler?” Eddie asked. Steve nodded.

“Yeah, and Robin’s other friend. Just graduated college. I don’t really know her that well, but she spent her senior year in Hawkins. She was a band kid or something, I think. Played the same instrument as Robin,” Steve waves his hands in a vague gesture trying to think of what the instrument in question was again. “That… big, curly trumpet.”

Eddie swallowed hard. “French horn…” he whispered, and Steve snapped his fingers in frustration that he’d forgotten the name of his best friend’s instrument.

There’s no way, it couldn’t be…

He didn’t have time to do more than grip the glass bottle in his hand and stare towards the side of the house where their friends’ voices echoed. He felt too exposed shirtless, so he bolted to grab his cropped Metallica tee and hurriedly threw it over his head.

“The fuck is your problem, man?” Steve asked, weirded out at his easy-going friend’s sudden burst of anxiety.

“Just,” he waved his hands around in frustration, trying to formulate a proper response. “The scars. They’re kinda gnarly, ya know?”

Steve scoffed. “Pretty sure it was Nance and me who kept you from bleeding out, and Robin has seen more of us than either of us are comfortable with, so what-”

Eddie shifted on his feet uncomfortably, arms crossed over his chest and eyes on the ground. Steve bent forward to meet his gaze, hands on his narrow hips and sporting a shit-eating grin.

“Oh shit, is it the band girl? Do you know her?” Steve walked towards him, speaking in a hushed tone, eyes brimming with mischief. The thought of Eddie “cold, cynical heart” Munson having a schoolboy crush was sending him over the moon with glee.

“Fuck off, Harrington,” Eddie hissed in Steve’s face right before you and the rest of the group rounded the corner of the house.

“Holy hell,” Steve murmured low enough for only Eddie to hear, “Didn’t know band nerds could look like that.”

Eddie was so enchanted by your sudden appearance that he almost missed the salacious tone of Steve’s voice. Almost.

“I will end you, Harrington. I swear to God, if you-”

“Jesus man, cool it. I won’t step on any toes,” he raised his hands in surrender, and Eddie’s glare softened marginally. “I’m only noticing what anyone who isn’t blind would.”

Eddie took a moment to look at you properly. You hadn’t noticed him yet, so he used the opportunity to drink in your form. He felt like a man wandering the desert deprived of water, finally making it to the bank of a river. Sure, he pined after you for an embarrassingly long time after you left Hawkins, and he never really forgot about you. There were other crushes and even a couple of make-out sessions, but they were never you. Seeing you now in that flowing, white swimsuit cover, skin glistening with sun tan oil, and that blinding smile spread across your face, Eddie felt like that sixteen-year-old loser who ran from you in the halls at school.

“Yeah, well,” Eddie grumbled under his breath so only Steve could hear. “If you try anything, I’ll make sure you do end up blind.” He schooled his features to look unfazed the closer you got.

“Jesus,” Steve wheezed, still a little shocked at Eddie’s rare burst of aggression. The last time he saw him this worked up he was holding a broken beer bottle to his neck in Reefer Rick’s boat shed. “Got it, chief. No funny business outta me.”

Eddie was so fucked. Not only was he trying to deal with being in your presence again without making an ass of himself, but his friends were also onto him. It’s almost like fighting monsters and nearly dying in a hell-dimension together made you all very perceptive of behavioral shifts. Who knew? It’s nice for Eddie to have a group of friends who finally get him, but hella inconvenient when he’s trying to hide the fact that he has a crush on the new addition to the group.

Steve, naturally, noticed first. Seeing Eddie get all “aggro” right off the bat killed any chances of him playing it cool. So his gaze followed him throughout the night, observing how Eddie would interact with you.

Steve’s attention then spurred Robin's attention. And when she has her sights honed in on a situation, it’s like a Great White sensing a drop of blood in the water.

The “Scoop Troop Wonder Twins” gawking at him (they were not being subtle at all, by the way) caught the attention of “super-sleuth” Nancy Wheeler. That led to the three of them huddled in a mass, whispering together on the opposite edge of the pool.

The only radars that Eddie was managing to fly under were Jonathan and Argyle’s. That’s not hard to do since they were balls-high on Purple Palm Tree Delight as soon as they sat in the metal deck chairs on Steve’s patio.

Then there you were, partaking in the rotation with the two stoners, a spot Eddie usually occupied. With your feet propped in an empty chair, he could hear you talking passionately about music with the other two. When he looked up as he heard you call out to him, Eddie knew his face had to give away how shocked he was.

“Hey! It’s Eddie, right?” You moved your feet out of the empty chair and motioned him over. “I remember you being a man of taste. Come over here and back me up on this.”

Eddie would readily agree to anything you asked of him. He’d fight to the death over it now.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he scratched his head a little and walked over to sit.

You promptly handed him the tightly rolled joint, smoke curling out of your nostrils like some sort of sexy wyvern, eyes half-lidded and just a little red. Oh god, he’s so terribly in love.

“I’m going to give you two options to choose from. No right or wrong, no pressure. But be warned,” then your lips curled in a mischievous smirk. He was reminded again of a dragon offering a riddle to a poor mortal that stumbled upon her hoard, the answer granting safe passage or untimely demise. “I will remember how you answer, and I will definitely judge you for it.”

Eddie almost choked on the smoke he’d inhaled like he was fourteen again and smoking for the first time behind his uncle’s trailer. “Wow, yeah. No pressure at all. Okay, hit me,” he responded, trying to appear calm as he passed the joint to Argyle.

“Black Sabbath with Ozzy? Or Black Sabbath with Dio? You’ve got thirty seconds,” you grinned evilly, swinging one leg over the other and leveling your dark gaze at him.

“Oh shit, man. Uh,” Eddie was losing it. He didn’t expect such a difficult decision. Choosing between his two favorite metal vocalists? Pure torture. But he’s a professional metalhead, after all. He’s put thought into this very question. “Ozzy Sabbath is iconic, of course. But Heaven and Hell is hands down one of the best albums ever written.”

You clapped once loudly and then pointed at Jonathan cackling. “What did I say?! One of Sabbath’s best albums ever made was with Dio fronting!”

The shaggy-haired stoner groaned and rolled his eyes. You looked over at Eddie, biting back a wide grin. “Jonathan said Sabbath wasn’t really Sabbath anymore once Ozzy left and that no one would agree with me when I defended Heaven and Hell!”

“Wait, you listen to Sabbath, Byers?” Eddie questioned, brows raised. He never took the gangly pothead as someone who would listen to metal.

“I listen to a little of everything, I guess,” he mumbled, passing the joint back to you to start another rotation.

You leaned your head back to gaze at the stars that just started to appear in the sky as you blew the fragrant smoke from your lips. “You passed my test. Congrats,” you extended your arm to Eddie, looking at him softly. Your fingers brushed as you handed over the roach, the joint almost gone by now. “I won’t judge you so harshly now.”

Maybe it was the high setting in, but Eddie swore he saw you throw a little wink his way. There was no stopping the goofy little grin taking over his face as he took the last hit off the joint and relaxed into his chair.

Eddie wasn’t ever, nor ever would be religious, but there is one quote he’s often heard that has stuck in his brain:

“The Lord gives his toughest battles to his strongest soldiers.”

It only confirms there is no Christian god in his mind. He’s been thrown into the toughest battles of his life constantly over the past few weeks, and if there is one thing Eddie knows for sure, it’s the fact that he is no one’s strongest soldier.

Today’s challenge took the form of a slip of black lace peeking out of the top of your duffle bag.

This most recent dilemma was the result of Eddie agreeing to something he’d always avoided until now…

Fucking camping

Eddie hated the outdoors and hated being forced to spend more time than necessary roaming them. (Uncle Wayne always blamed it on having a dad who only ever taught him how to commit crimes and never took him camping as a small child, but who knows?). As soon as you consented to the idea, Eddie was totally on board with going along. Steve started to give him shit for agreeing so quickly to something he knew his friend hated until Eddie leveled him with a glare so toxic it could melt the paint off the walls.

By this point, he was pretty sure everyone besides you knew about his crush (and probably Argyle, but that guy was constantly operating on another wavelength). Even Nancy started giving him knowing looks behind her permed bangs when he’d laugh just a tad bit too loud at your jokes. Eddie nearly threw Steve out of his passenger's seat when you asked to hitch a ride with him out to Lover’s Lake campground.

“What the fuck, man! I can just get in the back-”

“Nope. No. Fuck off, Harrington. Take your own car this time.”

“But I just washed-,”

“Don’t care…”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!”

Steve relented, making up a random excuse for taking his car. Robin happily jumped into the passenger seat of his little Mercedes and took over his radio. Eddie just grinned and threw a middle finger at his friend, who glared at him over the top of his car before getting inside.

“Thank god I’m riding with you! I don’t think I could suffer through any more of Argyle’s stoner tunes.” you hopped into Eddie’s van wearing a cropped Mercyful Fate tee and tiny denim cut-offs. So much exposed skin with no warning was doing terrible things for Eddie’s poor, inexperienced (dick) heart. “I love the guy, don’t get me wrong, I just needed to bond with a fellow metalhead today.”

Eddie cleared his throat and smiled, starting the car. He’s grateful he has the excuse of watching the road to keep his eyes (mostly) turned away from your exposed thighs. “Of course. Anytime.”

If Eddie weren’t so hopeless, he’d make some quip about all the fun ways the two of you could ‘bond’, but how could he flirt with you when looking at your legs had him getting hard like some fifteen-year-old? He was so hopeless.

“You can put in anything you’d like,” he gestured to the shoebox that held his cassette collection at your feet. “Most of my shit is at home, but I keep a decent variety here.”

He heard little ‘oohs’ and ‘ahh’s’ as you shuffled through the box. Eddie couldn’t help but feel a little proud that you approved of his musical selection. You yelled an enthusiastic “You’re fuckin’ kidding me!” and popped a tape into the radio before he could ask what you’d found.

“Where did you find this?! I’ve looked for months!”

Eddie started sweating when he heard the opening riff to the raunchiest goddamn song. It was his prized possession, one he only got his hands on because of friends in high places, W.A.S.P.’s “Animal” cassette.

“Umm,” Eddie’s brain short-circuited as you began to move to the beat of the music, throwing your head back and grinning at him wildly. “I’m pretty good buddies with a guy that owns a record store up in Indianapolis. Asked him to keep an eye out for me. I only got it a couple of weeks ago.”

“God, I’ve been dying to hear it again after hearing it live last March.”

Eddie’s nerves were quickly replaced with excitement. “Wait, live, you say?!”

“Yup,” you pop the p proudly and rest your feet on the dash. “I’ve got a cousin down in Dallas, which sucks, by the way. I don’t recommend ever going to Texas. Anyway, we saw them open for Iron Maiden. I’m telling you, it was a religious experience.”

Eddie slapped his hands on the steering wheel and a short, disbelieving laugh escaped his throat. “That’s insane! Holy shit, man!”

“I know,” you hummed. He felt you look over at him. “Have you gotten to see either of them live yet?”

“Nah,” he sighed. “Not yet. But one day! I’m already saving up.”

“We’ll go together,” you said it so casually, you acted as if it made perfect sense for you guys to go to a concert together. “We can split costs.” Eddie’s heart jumped up to his throat, and before he could form a coherent response, he saw you looking in the back of his van. He suddenly worried about what filth might be lurking back there. “We could even bunk up here and save on a hotel!”

Eddie stuttered and scratched his neck nervously. You must have taken it as rejection because you looked embarrassed as you sat back down and started fidgeting with your hair.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, Eddie. I do this thing all the time.” You waved your hands around in front of your face when you said ‘thing’, trying to find the words to express how you felt. “There aren’t many people I can talk about music with, you know? So I get all worked up and excited when someone else seems interested in the bands I love, and I assume we’re best friends.” You let out a self-deprecating chuckle, looking out the passenger side window. “I know it’s off-putting.”

Eddie couldn’t have that. He shook his head so hard that his hair slapped across his face. “Nope, uh-uh. Cut that out.” He glanced over to make sure your attention was on him. “That was like…” he sighed. How could he reassure you without outing himself as being obsessed with you?

“It was so far from off-putting. You have no idea.” Eddie swallowed hard and noticed you looked a little confused. He gathered the meager bits of courage he possessed and continued. “I’m just not used to…” he paused. He can’t say ‘Sorry, I’m not used to my walking, wet dream asking to road-trip with me to go to a metal show, so I don’t know how to function right now.’ so he took a moment to choose his words carefully.

“I’m just not used to other people being as excited as I am about my music, either. So I was just… surprised. But in a good way!” He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and added under his breath. “In a great fuckin’ way, actually.”

Eddie watched you visibly relax. “Oh, thank god,” You chuckled. “I know I can be too much sometimes. I think the reason why one of the only people I’ve stayed friends with is Robin. She’s one of the only people that’s never judged me for it. Robin and I are kinda cut from the same cloth, I guess. Kindred spirits, if you will.”

It warmed his heart to see you smile when talking about the freckled girl that also wormed her way into his heart.

“Buckley’s a good one. She uh,” Eddie’s throat tightened as painful memories flashed across his mind. Tears and mud streaked across Robin's face, screaming something he didn’t understand…Her body quaking under his as she helped drag him along dank, dark earth… her sniffling and talking to him quietly as she bandaged his mauled sides, offering soft words of comfort and handling Eddie as carefully as if he were spun glass…

He cleared his throat and blinked away a rogue tear threatening to escape. “She’s one of a kind. Harrington, too. Shit, the whole bunch. You’ll see, you don’t have to be anyone but yourself around these guys. Promise.”

Eddie felt comforted as he watched you relax further into the passenger seat. He knew all about being ‘too much’ and how people treated those that dared to be unapologetically themselves. He had no idea someone as perfect as you ever experienced things similar to his own growing up.

The rest of the short drive consisted of talking about music and shows you’d been to, always with the promise of ‘when we see them next time.’ Including Eddie in your plans made Eddie’s insides all gooey and his heart flutter. He tried to keep reminding himself that just because you were being nice to him that it didn’t mean you were about to confess your undying love. It’s a problem Eddie has always had. He can’t love anything halfway; not his music, books, or even a few movies he’d been obsessed with over the years. It also bled into his relationships, this all-consuming, feral love. Uncle Wayne has always said that he wore his heart on his sleeve, even after life had given him every reason to build a barbed wire fence around it.

Eddie parked a little way uphill from the others since his van doubled as his tent and because he valued his privacy. He told himself he didn’t want the younger kids catching a whiff of his nightly smoking sesh (He knows they know about his drug dealing, but that doesn't mean he wants to flaunt it). A darker part of him knew that he might have to indulge in other nightly activities after watching you in a tiny, red bikini all day.

Eddie graciously helped everyone out with setting up their tents. However, he still periodically reminded anyone who would listen that he didn’t have to bother with tents since he owned the superior form of transportation that doubled as a car and a place to sleep. So what if his chest puffed up a little when you giggled at his comments? He didn’t think it warranted the gagging and eye-rolling he got from Henderson, Red, and both Sinclair siblings. Damn kids…

When everyone went to the campground showers to change into swimsuits, Eddie simply threw his shirt off, opting to swim in his cut-off jeans. He snickered, thinking about the look of horror he’d get from Mr. Former Swim Team Captain at his audacity (he banned denim from his pool to force Eddie into a pair of borrowed trunks, but they were at the lake now. King Steve had no power here).

When you left the showers with Robin and Nancy in a cherry red bikini, Eddie made a beeline for the toilets. There’s no way in the nine circles of hell he’d be able to swim around without getting hard at the sight of you. He walked around the corner of the building that housed the showers when he saw them. Eddie knew that was your canvas bag, the very one he saw you pull out of the floorboard of his van when you got out. There was no mistaking that the black, lace boy shorts lying on top of your other clothes were yours. It looked like you’d stepped out of them and laid them right on the bag. That could only mean one thing…

“Oh, fuck me sideways…”

You’d been wearing these. You sat in Eddie’s van wearing these exact panties.

He knew he’d probably hate himself forever for what he was about to do, but in his defense, Eddie did make sure you had extra pairs of clean panties before swiping these (He’s not a monster, okay? He wouldn’t dream of leaving a fair maiden pantiless). After taking them, cursing himself quietly, he high-tailed it back to his van to hide them. He couldn’t help feeling like Gollum, storing the One Ring away in his cave away from nosey hobbits.

Before going back to the lake, he couldn’t resist pulling the fabric to his face and inhaling deeply. Eddie’s eye’s rolled into the back of his head, groaning at the light scent of you that permeated the delicate fabric. He shook his head and threw them into the van to rest among his bedding. If he got too carried away now, he would never get rid of the persistent issue he had grown between his thighs.

After another adjustment and filling his thoughts with some of the most boner-killing scenarios, Eddie was finally able to rejoin everyone at the lake. If he had to remain solidly waist deep the entire time to avoid embarrassing himself and everyone around him… Well that was his business, wasn’t it?

As Eddie’s luck would have it, as soon as he dared to slip the tantalizing strip of fabric that haunted him all fucking day long over his face, there was a knock on his van door. He nearly jumped out of his skin, sitting up at lightning speed.

He cracked the back door open and gasped when he saw it was you, still clutching your panties firmly in his grip. He slammed the door shut before you could speak and dove towards his bedding, stuffing the offending garment deep into his pillowcase. Eddie took one large breath to steady himself before turning to open the back door again.

“H-hi, umm,” he wanted to curl up into a ball and die. He just knew you were on to him. You were probably knocking on his door to tell him what a filthy pervert he was and demand he hand over your underwear. “What’s uh… what’s up?”

You looked both amused and slightly confused, one eyebrow cocked upwards. “Well, the thing is,” you looked around the dark campground, biting your bottom lip. “My tent keeps collapsing. So I tried bunking with Robin and Steve, but there was no room. All the other tents are full too, so… if it wouldn’t be too weird, I guess…” you trailed off sheepishly.

“You wanna sleep in here?” Eddie knew his eyes rivaled the size of the full moon that hung above your heads. He felt equal parts horrified, shocked, and elated that you’d ended up seeking him out.

“I’m sorry if it’s too weird! I can just squeeze between Robin and Steve, it’s no big-”

“No,” Eddie barked. He cleared his throat a little and lowered his voice. “No, it’s totally fine. I don’t mind at all,” The thought of you snuggling up to Harrington was one he didn’t want to entertain. He hoped his smile was reassuring and not creepy like he felt it might be. You must not have cared since you beamed at him and announced you’d be back with your bedding in a minute.

Eddie scrambled around to ensure the mess in the back of his van wasn’t too out of hand. He’d thrown an old pair of boxers and an empty beer can over the driver’s side seat when he heard you knock again. He was relieved that he decided to shower and put on deodorant earlier when most of the other guys didn’t after swimming all afternoon. Eddie would have lain awake all night in misery if he’d had to share close quarters with you smelling like a fish.

Once you were both inside the van, he closed the door, and the silence was deafening. You must have noticed the tension because you shifted an inch closer and cleared your throat. That gave Eddie the courage to sneak a peek at you over his shoulder.

He nearly groaned as he watched you pull a joint out of your goddamn bra and wave it in front of you, cocking an eyebrow up and smiling.

“Purple palm tree delight?” Eddie whispered, his mouth dry as cotton before taking a single hit.

“You know it,” you responded, pulling a lighter out of your pillowcase. Eddie wondered why you weren’t using your pockets. He risked a glance down towards your lap. Your shorts (if they could even be called shorts instead of underwear) were so tiny that there was no way you’d fit anything in there, even if they did have pockets. He felt dizzy at the thought of you being in such little clothing this close to him all night.

You lit up the joint, the small, flickering flame casting your features in an enchanting glow. Eddie was close enough to smell that you’d used some of that expensive perfume. A tiny, pathetic part of him wondered if you’d done it for him. ‘Don’t be a fool’ he thought. ‘Just because she’s sharing her weed and talking about music with you doesn’t mean anything. Stop being a pathetic creep.’

He must have missed something you’d said because he heard you call his name and saw you looking at him questioningly.

“Oh, sorry. What was that?”

“I said, can I try something?”

“S-sure,” Eddie didn’t know (or care, if he’s being honest) if you’d asked to try out ritual sacrifice or if you asked to try a piece of his gum, but he knew he’d always let you try anything you’d wanted. “I need to get pretty close. Is that okay?”

Eddie nodded, transfixed by you getting up on your knees and leaning over his face. Your face was inches from his. Eddie thanked any deity that existed for the forethought he had to put his pillow over his lap. He’d beg to be struck down by lightning if you knew how easily he got boners when you were near him.

You brought the joint up to your lips. Before taking a hit, you asked, “Have you ever shotgunned, Eddie?”

Of course, he hadn’t. Eddie’s experience with the fairer sex was woefully lacking. Instead of admitting it out loud, he simply shook his head no.

“Do you want to try it?” you purred. Eddie gripped the pillow over his lap as he nodded yes furiously. You grinned and put the joint to your lips. Eddie could have cried when you placed your small hand on his cheek, thumb pushing his chin down to open his mouth for you.

Your hand traveled to the back of his neck as you released smoke into his waiting mouth, and Eddie shuddered. He grew so flustered that he could barely inhale what you exhaled towards him. His eyes closed, and he let out a shaky exhale as you began to play with his hair.

“How was that?” you asked, lips still heart-achingly close to his own. Eddie’s brain was mush. The defenses he usually kept up around you to appear cool were falling fast.

“Am I dreaming right now?” was the only coherent thought he could string together, so that’s what ended up coming out of his mouth.

Your laughter sounded like bells. “Why do you ask that, Eddie?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No,” you drew out your response, still looking at him suspiciously.

“I’ve been obsessed with you since I was sixteen,” you looked genuinely surprised, but Eddie couldn’t stop the words from flowing now that he unleashed them. “I think I might die if I have to pretend for one more day that I’m not,” He paused. Eddie was so terrified. He felt like he might puke. “You scare the ever-living shit out of me, but not in a ‘horror movie villain’ way,” he inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. “In the way you might fear a beautiful warrior queen on the battlefield, or a siren out at sea.”

When he opened his eyes, he saw you wearing such a soft expression that he felt safe to keep talking. He said your name so quietly that he barely heard himself whisper it. “I’m just a freak that dreams about entertaining a goddess.”

Before he could feel insecure about spilling his guts to you in the back of his shitty van, your hands were holding his face, noses pressed together.

“Eddie Munson, you are a fool,” you whispered before attaching your lips to his in the sweetest kiss Eddie knew he’d ever had.

Eddie only nodded in agreement, clutching at your waist. He felt drunk off your lips, all of his insecurities taking a back seat as he reached for another kiss.

“You really had no clue?” you spoke into his ear as you kissed along his jawline.

“About what? Oh, fuck!” he whined as you sat down on top of him. Your weight in his lap felt heavenly despite the stupid pillow being in the way.

“About what?!” You pulled away with a wide eye stare. “I’ve been wanting to get in your pants since high school, you dingus!” You emphasized your point with a light slap to his chest. “I thought you hated me for the longest time! I was so nervous when I talked to you that one time we wore matching Iron Maiden shirts! When you ran away, I thought that was it. Then, years later, not only do I find out my crush is now friends with my best friend,” your arms wrapped around his neck as you leaned in. “I also find out that he’s got a big, fat crush on me too.” Your noses brushed and Eddie shivered.

“No fuckin’ way,” he whimpered as your lips brushed lightly.

“Yes fuckin’ way,” you replied, capturing him in another kiss.

Eddie didn’t question how you found out about his crush because he quite frankly didn’t have the brain power for it. He’d deal with all that later.

“Not to run you off or anything,” he sighed, relishing the feel of your soft hands exploring his torso. “But I was so obsessed with you back in school. Like, to a concerning degree.”

He didn’t expect you to moan into his neck at his admission, but he also wasn’t upset about it.

“Tell me about it, baby,” your voice was a husky whisper. “Keep talkin’ to me.”

“Oh god,” Eddie whined as he felt you begin to suck a mark into the delicate skin under his ear. “Feels… that feels so good.”

“Want me to mark you up? Show everyone you belong to me, Eddie?”

“Holy shit, yes! Please…”

“Then talk to me,” you kissed over the mark that began to form on his neck. “Tell me all about your little crush.”

“Fuck!” He cried out, bucking up into the pillow. “I, uh. I n-never even looked at anyone else in school after I saw you.”

“Not even the pretty little cheerleaders?”

“No,” he gasped when your lips met his again. “No one, I swear.”

You got off Eddie’s lap and he thought he might cry at the loss. The pillow hiding the tent he was sporting in his sweats was ripped away and for a moment, he felt self-conscious. You noticed him tense up and cupped his face.

“We can stop, you know?” Your eyes glowed with affection and Eddie wondered again how he was lucky enough to warrant that expression from you. “I’m just thrilled that we can be honest with each other now. We don’t have to do anyth-,”

“I’m a virgin,” Eddie blurred out. “Like a uh, mega virgin…”

Eddie could tell you were trying to keep your features neutral, but he saw the smile that wanted to peek out.

“A ‘mega virgin’?” You said, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

“Yes,” Eddie answered with a grimace. “Like an ‘I’ve never seen boobies in real life’ level of virgin. So, I’m probably going to be very bad at everything,” he looked up from his lap to lock eyes with you. Any trace of humor was gone, replaced with that honey-sweet fondness in your eyes.

“Can I be blunt with you, Eddie?” Your thumbs brushed his cheekbones softly as you spoke. “I’m so insanely attracted to you that I don’t think any touch you decide to give me could ever feel bad. Do you understand?”

“Y-yeah,” he responded with a whisper. “I feel the same way about you.”

Your forehead met his and he closed his eyes, afraid that when he opened them again, he’d realize this was all a dream.

“Do you wanna feel what kissing you does to me?” Eddie could only nod and pray to Lucifer that this was going where he thought it was. You grabbed his hand and placed it on your lower stomach. “Go ahead,” your lower lip brushed his as you spoke. “Feel how bad I want you.”

Eddie’s fingers trembled as they traveled past the elastic waistband of your tiny black shorts. He was mesmerized watching your mouth drop open and your eyelids lower in pleasure. When his hand’s slow descent made it to your soaked entrance, he was floored by how impossibly wet you were.

“Jesus H. Christ, this is unreal,” he moved his fingers up and down, not having any sort of plan, simply wanting to feel. By the way you grabbed his shoulders and started panting, you didn’t seem to mind his lack of skill too terribly. “Are you always this wet?”

You shook your head no instead of answering verbally. Eddie’s forehead fell to your collarbone as he let out a loud groan. His eyes were fixed on the outline of his hand in your shorts.

“Can we get these off?” He asked. “I wanna look, please.”

“Yeah, sure,” you responded, laying down on his blankets. You lifted your hips to take them off when Eddie grabbed your hands.

“Let me?” Eddie’s hands shook and his breath froze in his lungs. He’d dreamed of this exact scenario so many times before. This all seemed as fantastical as the D&D campaigns he spent hours writing.

“Please,” your voice was so airy and desperate. Eddie still couldn’t comprehend that he was the reason for it. You raised your hips and he slowly pulled your shorts off along with your panties. Immediately, he began running his fingers through your wetness, looking up at your face to judge your reactions.

“Does this feel good?” he asked. You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip with your eyes closed. He continued that way for a couple of minutes longer, panting at how wet his pointer and middle fingers had become. He laid his head on your thigh and kissed your damp skin. He kept his nose buried there, reveling in your smell and taste.

“I-I wanna make you come. Please,” your eyes met his and he kissed higher up your thigh, not looking away once. You threw your head back with a loud moan. Eddie felt like a god, your obvious signs of pleasure giving him newfound confidence. His fingers sped up while he added the slightest bit more pressure to his strokes. “That’s it, get loud for me. God, I fucking love your noises. Show me, baby,” he stopped touching you and grabbed one of the hands you had fisted in his blanket and wove your fingers together squeezing gently to get your attention. You nodded and brought his hand back down between your thighs.

“Put them inside,” you coached him along as he breached your soaked entrance. He went as slow as he could manage, eyes flitting between his disappearing fingers and your blissed-out face. Once he was in far enough, you spoke again. “Now, curl the- oh, fuck!”

Eddie grinned wildly at your outburst. He might be a virgin, but he’s not clueless, okay? Weirdly enough, he’d learned this little trick from Reefer Rick, of all people. They got high once and when Eddie let slip he was still a virgin, Rick took it upon himself to give him some sort of fucked up sex ed class on women’s pleasure. At the time, he wanted to curl up and die of shame. Now? All the embarrassment in the world was worth seeing your jaw drop and eyes roll back like this.

“There we go,” he purred. The part of Eddie’s personality that allowed him to go feral while DMing was bleeding over into his interactions with you. He sat up and began rubbing back and forth along your soaked clit with his other hand.

“Oh god, Eddie!” you looked close to tears as he massaged you inside and out. Your hips began writhing and when your thigh accidentally grazed Eddie’s stiff cock, he nearly doubled over. You noticed instantly and repeated the gesture.

“Fuck,” his movements faltered and you chuckled darkly, “Baby, if you make me come in my sweats I might die of embarrassment,” he whined through gritted teeth.

“What if I wanna see you do it?”

Eddie closed his eyes and inhaled deeply to collect himself. “Nope. Uh-uh,” he looked back down with determination in his features. “I’m getting you off first. I’ve dreamt of this for years. I refuse to jizz in my pants before you come all over my hands,” he redoubled his efforts, tongue peeking out of his mouth slightly in concentration.

Your eyes flew open and your body tensed. Eddie began to feel your walls fluttering around his fingers. It was the most intriguing and arousing thing he’d ever experienced.

“Holy shit,” he gasped. “You about to come, sweetheart?”

You nodded and grabbed his shoulder, sitting up a little. “Kiss me, please?”

Eddie melted. You wanting to kiss him while you came was so insanely sexy and endearing at the same time.

“‘Course I will, baby. Come here,” you crashed into each other, lips brushing together between panting breaths. You had one hand in Eddie’s hair and the other had a vice grip on his shoulder.

“Oh, fuck! Eddie, I’m-,”

“I know, I know. Give it to me,” he kissed you hard and imagined he’d died and gone to heaven when he felt your whine against his lips. You tensed all over. Eddie felt your walls clamp down on his fingers. He was amazed when you got impossibly wetter and threw yourself back into his pillow, nearly screaming in pleasure.

“Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl,” Eddie brushed your hair out of your eyes, staying like that for a few minutes. After you came down from your high, he laid down beside you.

Eddie held up the hand he’d had inside you and admired his soaked fingers before licking them clean and moaning shamelessly. You looked at him fondly, raising your eyebrows at his dramatics.

“What? Can’t help it,” he said, as he made a show of licking up his palm. “You’re sweet as honey.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, turning to throw your thigh over his lap. He shuddered and you grinned up at him with lidded eyes. “I bet you taste just as sweet, big boy.” Your thigh traveled lower. Eddie groaned and bucked his hips to chase the sensation. “You gonna let me find out? I know I said I wanted to see you get these sweats dirty, but I think I want you in my mouth more,” you whispered filth directly into his ear while petting along his lower stomach the entire time.

“If you keep doing that, I can’t make any promises I won’t get these pants dirty either way,” he moaned, grabbing your thigh and grinding it into his crotch again.

“You didn’t answer me,” you responded, sitting up and positioning yourself between Eddie’s spread thighs. “Are you gonna let me find out how you taste?” You pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in nothing but a black lace bra, one left little to the imagination.

“Uh, yes? Fuck yes!” Eddie was pulling at his hair, nearly hysterical with desire. He was on the verge of embarrassing himself because he was so worked up. He scrambled to get his pants down without knocking you over.

“Eddie,” you laughed lightly, grabbing his hands. “Let me,” he nodded and crossed his hands over his chest, not sure where they should go. It’s not like he’s ever been in this situation before.

“Relax,” you said as your fingers dipped below the waistband of his boxers. Eddie met your gaze and nodded. You began pulling his pants down and he tried his best to control his breathing.

He groaned long and low when you finally freed him from his clothing, the cooler air in the van a delicious contrast to his burning skin.

“I knew it,” you purred, wasting no time getting your hands on him. Your touches were firm but gentle, running up and down his shaft. Eddie keened when your palm slid over his weeping head, smearing precum down his length. “I knew you were hiding a monster in those tight jeans.”

“M-monster? Really?” Eddie lifted his head off the pillow and searched your face to make sure you weren’t just mocking him.

“Are you kidding? This thing has gotta be close to eight inches, Eddie!” You stroked him slowly from base to tip as you spoke. “It’s the biggest I’ve ever seen, anyway.”

“It is?” He said, probably a little too eagerly. He was practically glowing under your praise. And you seemed to catch on to it.

“It is baby,” your voice was low and sultry. “The biggest and the prettiest,” Eddie bit into his fist, trying to stave off his creeping orgasm as you began massaging his balls with your other hand. “I can already tell I’m gonna want you in my mouth any chance I get.”

“Oh fuck, oh god!” Eddie’s hips jolted, “I might not survive your hand, much less your mouth!”

You grabbed the fist he’d been biting and intertwined your fingers. “Only one way to find out.”

That was the last thing you said before taking him halfway down in one go. Eddie squeezed your hand and shouted.

“S-shiiit! Y-you’re so,” he panted and squirmed, trying to string together a coherent thought. “You’re so perfect. Your mouth is heaven,” you hummed in appreciation of the praise and the vibrations felt like electricity dancing along Eddie’s spine. “Oh goddammit, I’m gonna come so fuckin’ fast.”

You pulled off of him to meet his eyes, “Do it,” you took his hand and placed it on the back of your head, “Wanna make you feel good.”

“Oh, you sweet thing,” Eddie stroked your cheek affectionately, “You do. You really fuckin’ do.” His hand went back to your hair as you swallowed him down again. It wasn’t much longer before he began warning you.

“H-hey,” his voice rose in pitch the closer he got to his release, “L-listen, angel. I’m about to come. Pull off.”

“Want it in my mouth,” you said, kissing his hipbone as you kept stroking him. “Can I taste it? Please?”

“Goddammit, yes! Oh yes, please!”

You hummed around him and with just a few more bobs of your head, Eddie released straight into your throat.

You slowly bobbed your head, swallowing every time another wave of his release entered your mouth. After a few seconds, when you were sure he was done, you released him from your lips and sat up. Eddie’s vision returned just in time to watch you crawl over his body and lay onto his chest. Your hands carded through the damp curls around his face.

“Wanna know a secret, Eddie?” You whispered, tracing patterns into his scalp as his breathing finally slowed.

“Y-yeah.”

“That’s the first time I’ve ever let anyone come in my mouth.”

Eddie’s face whipped over to look at you. “Honest?”

You smiled as you bit your lower lip and nodded, “Honest, baby.”

He shuddered at the nickname. “Mmm, keep callin’ me sweet names and you’ll never get rid of me, ya know?”

“That’s the idea, my love.”

Eddie made a growling sound as he clung to you like a koala. “You’re lethal. You know that?”

You didn’t answer but sat up far enough to envelop Eddie’s plush lips in a deep kiss. You made out like that for a while, until he realized he began to harden again. You seemed to notice it as well.

“Down, boy,” you joked, stroking his sides and nipping at his throat.

Eddie groaned. “Nothing’s going down as long as I’m this close to you,” he turns you both to your sides facing each other. “I can’t stop thinking about how warm and wet you are,” Eddie squeezed your sides and kissed along your collarbone. “You squeezed my fingers so tight when you came. I wanna feel you doing that around my cock, pretty mama.”

You wrapped your leg around his hip and whined. “Eddie I’m not taking your virginity in the back of your van,” his hand found your still-soaked entrance and began petting you while his mouth worked your neck over. You returned the favor by fisting his damp cock.

“Oh god, I don’t give a fuck where it happens,” he gasps as you run your palm over his sensitive head. “Please, I need it,” he bit and sucked the delicate skin of your neck, whining the entire time.

“No, Eddie,” your firm tone made him shiver. “You’ll get my hand and my mouth tonight. As many times as you need it,” your hand sped up as his fingers followed suit against your clit. “But you’ll get my pussy in my bed. So you can fuck me into the mattress properly.” Eddie came for the second time with a shout into your fist.

He looked up in time to see you lick it up from your palm like it was sugar. Eddie’s brain short-circuited. “I-I wanna make you come again,” he blurted out, still circling your clit. You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your forehead into his.

“Keep doing that,” you encouraged. Eddie nodded and picked up speed. He watched you in a trance as you unraveled under his touch for the second time in one night. He felt like a god.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty when you do that,” Eddie kissed all over your face as you laughed. “Ethereal, stunning, a work of art!”

“That’s all you, pretty boy,” you kissed the bridge of his nose and he melted.

“By the way, I’m totally down for van fucking, ma’am,” he feigned irritation as he poked your sides playfully. “Making a twenty-one-year-old virgin wait even longer is just cruel.”

“Don’t pout, Eddie,” you cooed, cuddling into his side. “I promise you’ll be glad you waited.”

“If you insist, princess,” he sighed, pulling your body close.

“I do,” you yawned. “Now sleep.”

“Hey, sweetheart?”

“Hmm?”

“How soon after we wake up can we get the fuck outta here and preferably into your bed?”

Eddie let out an ‘oof!’ as you slapped a pillow over his face.

“Less talk. More sleep.”

“Yes, love.”